


The Golden Blade

by SweetDeceit



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, Humor, M/M, Smut, brothel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1726685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetDeceit/pseuds/SweetDeceit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl Dixon works at Merle's all male brothel along with Shane, Glenn, Tyreese, and Dale. With Daryl's list of customers dwindling due to his refusal to cater to men, Merle decides it's time Daryl rethink his trade. How will Daryl react to his first male customer, Rick Grimes? Brothel AU, Daryl/Rick, Implied Lori/Shane. Mild humor regarding the other attendants such as Dale and Glenn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Quick Escape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crimsonvalkyrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonvalkyrie/gifts).



_**Author's Note: A gift for crimsonvalkyrie who wouldn't stop bugging me until this was written, I hope you enjoy.** _

_**Storyline loosely based off of the Teahouse comic series, which I do not own. Nor do I own The Walking Dead or any of its characters.** _

_**In this story I will not pursue any relationships apart from Daryl and Rick.** _

* * *

 

“Ain’t you got a customer to be dealing with or sumthin’?” Merle called from his seat behind his desk on the far side of the ornately decorated room. Merle put his money aside on the desk, he could count it later. For now, he had business to attend to.

Daryl pulled his eyes from the gold trim of the ceiling to look his at his elder brother, but made no move to respond. After a moment or so of staring at his sibling, Daryl moved his eyes back up to the ceiling and took a sip from the whiskey bottle clutched in his hand. He settled back against the large leather couch, and tried his best to ignore the moans, both of pleasure and of pain, emanating from the rooms upstairs. The constant creaking of the bed posts made that a difficult task.

Merle’s jaw stiffened; he didn’t like being ignored.

“Boy, you best have sumthin’ better to do besides layin’ aroun’ drinkin’ _my_ whiskey.” Daryl knew where this was headed.

“Check the book, Merle,” he said bitterly, “I’m done for the day.” Merle opened up the massive brown leather book on his desk and fervently flipped to Daryl’s section. He found the schedule for today, and after staring at the white space between his appointments, slammed the book shut.

On the other side of the room, Daryl stood, sensing the repetitive argument that would soon ensue, he headed towards the bar and replaced his empty whiskey bottle with a new one. There had been hardly any left in the last one, and he wanted nothing more right now than to be very, very, drunk.

Merle leaned back in his large wooden chair, and bit at his nails on the only ‘good’ hand he had left. With his other arm, which he had lost long ago and had replaced with an ornate golden blade. He began cutting little lines into the wood of his desk, leaving wood dust scattered around the edge of it. His eyes were dark, darker than usual. His blood was boiling at the thought of lost money.

It’d been years since Merle had started his own whore house, the Golden Blade, which he named after his own golden blade. He found the name humorous in the fact that he ran a brothel consisting of all male attendants. Business was booming, but it never was quite booming enough for Merle’s taste.

“Tell me sumthin’ lil brother,” Merle began in a low voice that faintly reached Daryl’s ears, “why is it that my own flesh and blood,” Merle continued in a voice that held the faintest echo of menace in it, “is trying to sabotage my business, hmm?”

Daryl leaned his elbows onto the smooth marble tabletop of the bar. He put his face in his hands and sighed deeply. “I’m not sabotaging _anything_ ,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands and his words slurred ever so slightly by the alcohol.

“Well, you sure as _hell_ ain’t helping it grow, now are ya?” Merle said, his voice rising steadily as he went, “Day after day, you pass up customers, and why?! Because yer a particular little whore?” Merle finally stood from his seat, and began walking slowly across the room towards the bar. “You’ve got some regulars, lil brother but they ain’t enough anymore-”

“I don’t do men,” Daryl finally said, pulling his head from his hands and turning to face the man moving towards him.

“Yeah, well, yer gonna start,” Merle said, the darkness in his eyes growing deeper. The brother stared at each other, each one knowing a fight was coming on, each one thinking of a dozen different ways to counter the other’s attacks, each one thinking of how to best the other.

At that moment, however, the darkness in Merle’s eyes was abruptly lightened, and Daryl relaxed at the sight of a would-be customer just inside the entrance. Merle looked over his shoulder at the man, and ground his teeth, but put on a smile, “I’ll be right over,” he said.

The man had a tall, lean frame, with longer-than-usual brown, curly hair that was pushed back neatly. Daryl could see the icy blue of his eyes even from across the room.

Merle turned back to his younger brother, his smile dropped instantly, and the darkness flooded back into his eyes as he pointed at Daryl and said, “Now you listen to me boy,” Daryl couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the man, who was beside the desk, looking around at the décor, which was reminiscent of the renaissance, and feigning disinterest in the dispute just across the way from him. The man, whom Merle knew as Rick Grimes, one of the most wealthy and well regarded men in the town, couldn’t hear the end to the argument, Merle made sure to whisper. “The next time a paying cock walks in here,” Merle looked Daryl dead in the eye, “you’ll be taking it up the ass.”

A moment later Merle had turned away from him and was headed toward the stranger that Daryl was transfixed on, “Rick,” Merle said with a cackle and a smile as he held out his good hand to the other man and brought the other man in for a quick embrace.

“Evenin’ Merle,” Rick replied with a small smile.

“You in to see Shane again?” Merle asked as he stepped back behind his desk and opened up his schedule book again and flipped to Shane’s log this time. He felt a slight pain in the contrast of how completely filled his other worker’s day had been in comparison to his brother’s. That would change soon though if Merle had anything to say about it.

Rick kept a polite smile on as his eyes met Daryl’s. Daryl hadn’t moved from his place against the bar and when Rick smiled at him, he just stared, his eyes practically squinting as he looked the man over.

He tried to imagine himself with, on, or _in_ the man….

He just couldn’t do it.

After another moment, he shook his head and turned back to his whiskey bottle.

“Now then,” Merle said, “Shane’s just finishing up with his last appointment now, it should be anytime-” Merle was interrupted by the swinging of a large door followed by the sound of heels on the stairs. In another moment, a cloaked figure, which was obviously a woman, appeared at the foot of the grand staircase.

Rick kept the polite smile on his face, though the woman, completely covered in a dark blue fabric, sped out of the foyer and slammed the great door behind her. Rick lost his smile finally, though even he wasn’t sure why.

Merle smiled, “Alright, Shane’s all done,” his words hung in the air bitterly, “you can go up and see him now.” Rick nodded and walked over to the base of the staircase to see his longtime friend, “Just,” Merle continued, “don’t’ keep him up too long, he’s got a busy schedule tomorrow.” Rick nodded as he ascended the stairs and stepped into Shane’s room.

As soon as the door was shut, Merle burst out in a fit of laughter that forced him to sit down lest his knees buckle from his enjoyment. As he began to quiet down and wipe the tears from his eyes, Daryl turned and gave him a glare, “What’s so damn funny?” He asked, his words filled with slurs and bitterness.

“That woman,” Merle burst out in a fit of laughter again and it took several more moments for him to regain himself, “that woman,” Merle pointed toward the door where she had left, “was _his_ wife.” Merle pointed up toward the staircase Rick had just ascended, and promptly broke out in a hushed chuckle, clutching his stomach to calm himself.

Daryl just stared at the great door, grinding his teeth. He took one last sip of whiskey as Merle finally grew silent. Daryl wiped his mouth on the collar of his flannel cutoff shirt, and glanced up at the stairs, biting his lip at the thought of Rick Grimes.

 


	2. Breakfast in Business

Daryl awoke to the smell of pancakes, specifically, Shane’s homemade buttermilk pancakes he constantly referred to as ‘legendary’. Really, they sucked ass in Daryl’s opinion but if you drowned them in enough syrup you’d barely notice the gritty bits of pancake mix.

Nevertheless, Daryl got up out of bed and threw on a pair of jeans, a flannel cutoff, and his boots that he gathered up from the floor. Quickly throwing them on, he headed downstairs to join his fellow housemates.

As he entered the kitchen, he heard Dale talking of last night’s dealings, “then he put whipped cream all over both of us,” Dale said, shivering in disgust, “it was a sticky mess and I don’t even want to think about my sheets right now.” Dale shook his head as he finished his story.

Dale, Glenn, and Tyreese were all eating their pancake breakfasts at the table beside the great bay window at the other side of the relatively small but nicely decorated kitchen.

Shane stood at the stove with his spatula in hand, ready to pounce on the next pancake that needed flipping. “That’s nothing,” Glenn said to Dale, “last night, I had that Phillip guy again,”

“Again? That’s like the third time this week!” Tyreese said loudly.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Glenn sighed.

Daryl grabbed a plate from the cabinet as he listened, “Anyway, shit got real weird last night,” Glenn looked around at his housemates as if he were telling a ghost story, “So, I was sucking his dick, right? And when I look up he’s got this stupid fucking eye patch on and he’s telling me to call him the governor,”

Tyreese cracked up laughing, “The governor?” he asked, trying to keep from spitting out his pancakes.

Glenn turned to Tyreese with a stern look which effectively stifled his laughter. Tyreese cleared his throat, “Go on,” he said, focusing on his pancakes if only to keep from chuckling.

“Next thing I know, he’s tossing me on the bed and putting a burlap sack on my head,” Glenn took a couple gulps of milk before returning to his breakfast, “good thing he doesn’t last long because I was about ready to make the eye patch a permanent accessory.”

Daryl shook his head; this was why it was so much easier with women. They had their kinks, but he’d never had to deal with such a freak as ‘the governor’.

“Shit Glenn, sometimes I wonder where you find all these assholes,” Shane said as he watched over his last batch of pancakes.

“Apparently _they_ find _me_.” Glenn said unhappily.

Daryl reached over Shane’s shoulder and tried to pluck one of the pancakes out of the pan. Before he could though, Shane slapped his hand with a spatula, “You already got a plate,” he said, smiling to himself.

“Yeah, Daryl, your plate is right here,” Dale said, pointing to a plate beside him. Daryl nodded and returned the plate he was holding back into the cabinet before heading over to his seat. Everyone’s eyes were trained on Daryl as he took his seat, though he hardly noticed.

The plate was covered in a paper towel to keep the pancakes warm, or so Daryl thought.

As he reached for the syrup, he pulled the paper towel off of the plate and bit his tongue as the room broke out in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

There, on Daryl’s plate, were three pancakes of varying sizes that were purposefully shaped like penises.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Shane managed between laughs, “it needs somethin’ extra,” he said, taking the syrup from Daryl’s hands and drizzling the liquid from the tip of each of the fiendishly shaped breakfast cakes.

Daryl pushed Shane away with a huff as the laughter died down, “Asshole,” he said grumpily.

Shane placed the syrup back on the table and returned to his station. “Hey man, we heard about your talk with Merle,” Tyreese said. Daryl glared over at Glenn, who stared back nervously.

“I had to focus in on something besides what ‘ _the governor’_ was doing to my ass, okay?” Glenn said before stabbing his pancakes with his fork and stuffing them into his mouth.

“What I’m trying to say is, if you need any tips or anything, we’ll help you out.” Daryl ignored him and began violently cutting apart his breakfast.

Truth was he hadn’t slept very well at all last night, he’d been up thinking about that man all night; Rick Grimes.

What started him on the topic was the fact that his wife had been left from Shane’s room mere moments before Rick had entered. It was almost too ironic to believe.

When he finally did manage to fall asleep, his mind hardly let him rest.

It was one of the strangest drams he’d ever had; the scene was that of a grand ball, with its guests dressed in the appropriately dated attire of extravagant gowns and fine suits.

He must’ve danced with a dozen different women, but they were all a blur of curled hair and heavy perfume; none of their faces stuck in his mind. He couldn’t remember how it happened or for what reason, but at one point in his dream he found himself sitting at one of the many tables that encircled the ballroom floor.

And just like that, the party was over. The guests were gone, the music had ceased, and the ballroom was swallowed up in silence.

But as he glanced around the room, he found he was not alone.

One man, one all too familiar man, sat at a table across the room from him, sipping his wine and staring at him. Daryl instantly recognized him by his blue eyes, though as Rick set his glass back down on the table, the smile that pulled at his lips was not the simple polite one from before; this one held a darkness in it that Daryl hadn’t seen before.

But deep down, some part of him liked it, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

In his dream, the lights began to flicker as Rick slowly rose, turned his back, and walked away into the shadows. From there, Daryl woke up.

“Listen, son,” Dale said, leaning over and touching Daryl’s arm, “it’s all about the hand work,” Dale curled his hand as if it were wrapped around a dick, “just the right amount of pressure and-”

Daryl tore his arm away from his older housemate, “Get outta here with that shit, old man,” he said with a mouth full of pancakes, “can’t you see I’m eatin’?”

“Well, excuse me for trying to help you,” Dale said, making sure to embellish how offended he was.

“I know how to rub a fucking dick I’ve only been doin’ it my whole life, dumbass.” Dale had already stomped out of the room, though no one in the room seemed to miss him when he left.

Glenn and Tyreese picked up their dishes and were off to prepare for business as usual tonight, leaving Shane and Daryl alone in the kitchen.

Shane sat down in a newly vacant seat and began preparing his pancakes to be devoured. Daryl was just finishing up his breakfast as Shane sat. Just as Shane had opened his mouth to take the first bite, Daryl asked, “So, how long you been fucking that guy’s wife?”

* * *

 

Night had fallen, and customers had come and gone…..and cum and gone just the same.

The last appointments were finishing up, and Daryl was once again left without work. Not that he minded.

Luckily for him the male customers of the day all had appointments with the others. And so Daryl stood in his darkened room, tossing darts at his dart board and once again trying to ignore the sounds all around him.

At one point he had to burst out in a laugh because of a horrified moaning sound that he recognized as Dale’s. It was always funny to hear Dale be abused, always. Old fool.

Daryl could also hear Shane at work, though this time his customer was a man.

As for Glenn, Daryl heard ‘governor’ forcedly moan once or twice, which made him shiver.

Daryl had just landed another bullseye when a different sound caught his attention coming from the front hall. He tossed his last dart and left to stand at the top of the staircase.

Looking down at the hall below, he could see his brother manning the front desk and talking to none other than a severely drunken Rick Grimes, who held a certain cloak in his fist.

“She’s here now, isn’t she?” Rick slurred, not angrily necessarily, but certainly not happily.

Merle shrugged, “Rick, my customers are very secretive about their identities, they almost never use their real names when coming here, I’ve no way to tell if your wife has ever even been here before.” Merle said, lying through his teeth.

Rick threw the cloak down on Merle’s desk. “Lots of our customers cover their faces as well.” Rick’s nostrils flared as he began to pace the floor, his anger rising.

“Why the hell would she-” Rick rubbed his forehead and continued his pacing, “She sits at home and blames me,” his voice rose in volume, “and then comes here!” Merle began to hush him.

“Rick, you know I’d help ya if I could, but I’ve got customers,” Rick came to lean on Merle’s desk and stared down at the wood, keeping his face obscured from Daryl’s view, “if you need me to bring around a ride for you-”

Rick said bitterly. Merle tried to conceal his surprise. "I want to know what makes it worth....." he trailed off.

Rick pulled out his wallet and tossed the money on Merle’s desk. Merle caught sight of Daryl in the corner of his eye and smiled, “Right then, I’ve got just the guy for you,” Rick followed Merle’s gaze up to Daryl.

And, not for the first time, Daryl was mesmerized by the icy blue eyes of Rick Grimes.

Or, as he was to be known from now on, Daryl’s first male customer.


	3. Burned

_**Author's Note: I preemptively apologize.** _

_**Oh, and I still own nothing from the Walking Dead. I just enjoy making the characters do interesting things.** _

* * *

 

Daryl walked back into his room, leaving the door open for Rick to follow.

As he was waiting for the drunken man to make his way up the stairs and stumble into his room, Daryl took a deep breath and walked to his dresser. He pulled out the top drawer and dug through his cut off flannel shirts to find the emergency reserve flask he had stashed at the bottom.

As Rick’s footsteps grew closer, Daryl chugged the entire thing down. He was determined to have this over and done with. When Rick finally stumbled into the room, it was clear he felt the same way.

He immediately headed straight for Daryl, who tossed the empty flask back into the drawer and turned just as Rick reached him. Daryl didn’t even have time to exhale before Rick had crushed his lips into his own, and stuck his whiskey-soaked tongue halfway down his soon-to-be lover’s throat.

The kiss was angry, furious, even. Daryl had seen scorned lovers time and time again. They always had this…urgency about them, this need to be wanted, satisfied and pleasured all for the sake of feeling like they’re still _capable_ of those feelings.

But when Rick began backing him up against his dresser, Daryl’s temper flared. If he was doing this, he sure as fucking hell wasn’t going to be the bottom.

And so, Daryl broke the kiss, and shoved Rick angrily towards the bed before he ripped off his flannel shirt and tossed it aside. Rick, dizzied by the sudden movement, kept still from his spot sitting on the bed, if only to stop his head from spinning.

Daryl came to stand before him, gripping Rick’s hair and roughly forcing his head back, allowing Daryl perfect access to his neck. Daryl bit down on Rick’s neck- hard. In some way, deep down, Daryl resented Rick. He didn’t do men. He just didn’t.

And here was this sorry fuck, who couldn’t keep a handle on his wife, so now _he_ had to deal with him?

_“Shoulda just gone on up to Shane, the three of them could’ve had a reunion party._ ” Daryl thought.

Rick grabbed Daryl by his head and flipped him back onto the bed, landing easily on top of him. For a hammered guy, Rick was proving to be quite coordinated. Rick took advantage of Daryl’s surprise and pinned his hands down on either side of his head. For the moment, Daryl allowed it.

Rick once again crushed his lips against Daryl’s, but made it a point to bite down on Daryl’s lower lip hard enough to draw blood; payback for the nasty lovebite the other man left on his neck.

His kiss was sloppy, slurred and getting more so by the second. Daryl was getting impatient; he needed this to be over already. Daryl broke Rick’s hold on his hands, which wasn’t difficult considering how intoxicated he was, and quickly went to work unbuttoning his shirt as Rick worked his way down Daryl’s neck, biting, kissing, and sucking at his tanned skin.

Daryl’s fingers fumbled over the buttons; he tried to pass it off to the fact that he’d never had to unbutton another person’s shirt before, with women he usually just pulled it over their heads…but the truth was that Daryl couldn’t focus a damn bit on what his fingers were doing while his neck was being practically assaulted by all parts of Rick’s mouth.

Finally, Daryl had had enough. He ripped Rick’s shirt the rest of the way down and from there reached down to undo his own jeans. As soon as he got his fly open, he flipped Rick back on the bottom, but he didn’t stop there. Daryl forcibly flipped Rick onto his stomach, and hoisted his ass up in the air.

Daryl ground his hips against Rick’s ass, letting him know just what he was in for.

But just before Daryl pulled Rick’s jeans down, a man’s scream echoed through the building. Usually, screams were ignored in this house, for obvious reasons.

But this scream was followed by another one, “FIRE!” It was clearly Dale’s voice, and it grew closer as two sets of footsteps sprinted down the hall past Daryl’s room.

Daryl let go of Rick’s jeans and backed off of him. Rick turned to look at Daryl and the two of them just stared, breathless and dazed.

Daryl turned and walked to his door. Swinging it open wide, he spotted Dale in the foyer with nothing but a pair of tighty whiteys on. He was looking at the obviously burned arm of a man, who was also barely clothed.

Merle came running up the stairs, heading towards Dale’s room with a fire extinguisher. “Merle, what’s going on?” he asked as he passed.

“Are you deaf or just stupid?” he asked as he ran past him.

Daryl looked back in the room to see Rick was putting his torn flannel shirt back on and getting ready to leave. Daryl ground his teeth together before he took off down the stairs. “What the fuck did you do!?” Daryl said as he shoved Dale away from the man who was staring at his burn with a grimace.

Shane came down the stairs in a pair of cargo pants, helping a thin looking man down the stairs. The man was clearly having trouble walking straight, and it wasn’t difficult to figure out why. Tyreese and Glenn were not far behind them with their own customers; Tyreese escorted a woman who had clearly rushed to throw her dress back on and Glenn was walking quickly away from his customer, who still wore the eye patch.

Glenn tried to keep his distance from the ‘governor’.

Dale stuttered as his housemates began to gather around him, none of them looking particularly happy. “I-I-I just lit some candles for the customer and-”

“No candles,” Glenn said, “you know that.”

“My customer wanted candles,” Dale disputed, “he’s got some kind of fire fetish, I don’t know.”

Shane pointed his finger in Dale’s face, “I’ll skin you alive for this, Dale.” Dale’s bushy eyebrows furrowed, he looked mortified.

Rick finally came down the stairs, and kept his eyes locked on Daryl as he joined the other customers on the far side of the room. Tyreese caught a glimpse of the eye patch and knew it was the governor immediately. He leaned over to Glenn. “So, how about them politics?” he said.

They all tried desperately to keep their laughs in, lest their customers catch wise to their gossiping ways.

They all bit their lips trying to keep from laughing, all except Daryl, who was staring across the room at the man with the icy blue eyes which were staring back at him.

For a moment, everything around Daryl disappeared, and he was back in his dream, just staring across the ballroom at the same man before him now.

Daryl was pulled from this thought by the sound of Merle’s raspy voice coming from the top of the stairs. He tossed the empty fire extinguisher aside, “Well, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, taking one heavy step down the first stair, “the fire is out.” He said, looking over at Dale with a dark gleam in his eye.

As soon as he turned back to the customers, that look was gone.

“If you would like to return to your…business,” Merle struggled to find the word, “then you are welcome to. Otherwise, I will offer each of you another visit at your convenience, free of charge.” The words came out easily, but Daryl could tell the Merle was fighting those words to the end.

Several of the customers returned upstairs to collect their possessions and be on their way. The night was ruined, all thanks to Dale and his candles.

Daryl watched as Rick, instead of heading back upstairs, took his leave out the front entrance. Shane caught sight of him leaving, and eyed his housemates in wide eyed suspicion. He obviously hadn’t taken note of whose customer Rick was.

That mystery was quickly solved though when each patron was led back up the stairs by their lovers and Daryl walked over to the bar instead.

Shane bit his tongue when he saw this, but led his customer back up to his room and said nothing of it.

One by one, the patrons of the night descended the stairs and said goodbye to their escorts at the door and were off into the night.

And, one by one, the housemates gathered by the bar, each one pulling out their choice of spirits and drinking them down. It took them a few minutes to realize something was missing.

“Where’s Glenn?” Tyreese finally asked.

A loud and pained grunt sounded from upstairs and the four of them broke into a fit of laughter that lasted several minutes. Daryl even laughed, which was unusual for him.

“Poor kid,” Dale said as their laughter died down.

“Man, Merle shoulda thrown you in with him for that dumb shit,” Shane grumbled.

The two of them began to bicker but Daryl could scarcely hear them. He was lost in thoughts.

Thoughts of Rick Grimes, thoughts of his lips on Daryl’s neck and his teeth biting at his skin. Something about it was so... he couldn’t even think of a word for it.

All Daryl knew was that a part of him wished that he would take Merle up on his offer.

And _soon_.


	4. Bad Luck Dale

_**Author's Note: I apologize for the lack of Daryl/Rick in this chapter, that'll change soon.** _

* * *

 

When Rick finally arrived back at his mansion he found that Lori still wasn’t home. Not that he cared really. Their marriage had never really been what he’d call happy, but they had been a team, if nothing else, they were a team.

At least that’s what he thought before he’d dug through her closet and found the same cloak that he’d seen her wear when she left the Golden Blade brothel.

And now?

Now he didn’t know what to think. Maybe he just didn’t want to think _anything_ anymore.

Maybe that was why he stumbled into the brothel; because it would be simple, fast, and, most importantly, _thoughtless._

At least, that’s what he was hoping for.

Unfortunately, all Rick could do since he left the brothel was _think._

About things he really shouldn’t be thinking about.

Namely, Daryl Dixon.

Rick had never known himself to be attracted to men, he’d wondered, certainly, but ever since he’d seen Daryl by the bar that night, he couldn’t get the image of the man’s biceps and narrowed eyes out of his mind, and when he’d declared himself a customer to Merle he was all too thrilled when Daryl appeared at the top of the stairs.

Rick sat himself down on his living room sofa, he didn’t have it in him to make it up the stairs and down the long hallway to their bedroom, he’d only think about Lori in there, anyway. And that was one thing he wasn’t willing to do right now.

After a few minutes, Rick laid back and tried his best to get some rest, though that idea was short lived since the front door opened and shut quickly, and footsteps made their way up the stairs and down the hall, towards their bedroom.

From Rick’s spot on the couch he couldn’t see who it was, though it wasn’t difficult to guess. Lori had finally managed to find her way home to bed. She’d glide through the house and up the stairs as she always did and expect to find Rick in the bed, reading in his wait for her to get home, and she’d give some line about where she’d been all night.

Only tonight she’d find something different waiting for her on their bed.

A long, dark, blue velvet cloak would be lying in her spot.

Rick wished he could see the look on her face when she saw it, but then he realized he’d be better off not seeing her face, at least not seeing it in the foreseeable future.

* * *

 

It had been a few days since the fire yet the Golden Blade had been closed down by the fire marshal for reasons that Merle had described as “Complete fuckin’ bullshit, goddamned bullshit excuse, fuckers!”

Apparently the fire’s smoke had been seen by someone outside the brothel and a report was made to the fire marshal who was all too happy to shut it down. Merle always said the authorities in this town had it out for him, and to some extent that was true.

When the fire marshal arrived it was discovered that he’d invited along a health inspector, who wasted no time picking the place apart and pissing Merle off.

The health inspector had given him a list of regulations that Merle needed to abide by before the Golden Blade could be reopened. It seemed that the inspector wasn’t too partial to the vast dildo collection that was stored in the basement beside the old furnace as well as the entire closet dedicated to the housing of bottles of lube that was ‘not stored at the right temperature and could compromise the health of the customers’ and the chest of condoms that he considered ‘idiotically preserved,’ whatever that meant.

And so, Merle did the only thing that Merle does. He half-assed the cleanup.

He forced Dale to drag the massive chest of condom boxes down the hall and to the lube closet where he was then told to switch the two. Dale organized the condoms by size, color, and even flavor for the edible ones.

As for the lube, well, barely half of it fit into the chest, so Dale became the lube delivery boy and brought boxes of the bottles to each of his housemates, he even got a tip from Shane, who slid a dollar between the older man’s butt cheeks when he bent over to set the box down.

From Daryl, Dale received a “What the fuck is that?”

To which he replied, “Your new toy box, enjoy.”

Lastly, the dildo collection had to be moved into a new room.

“No, no, no, no Dale, no way, they’re not going in my room,” Glenn had protested loudly when Dale made the suggestion. Glenn looked side to side nervously before he leaned down and whispered, “Do you have any idea what the governor will do to me with those things just laying around?” his eyes were open wider than Dale had ever seen them and it made him extremely uneasy. After a moment, Glenn snapped out of it, “Just, uh, just find somewhere else for them,”

“Somewhere else for what?” Shane asked as he stepped into the living room and fell back in the armchair, kicking his boot up on the coffee table.

“I, um,” Dale cleared his throat, “I need to find a place for the dildos.” He said plainly.

Shane laughed inwardly at the thought of Dale dragging box after box of dildos up two flights of stairs, “Just throw ‘em in Daryl’s room, he’s gotta get used to being around dicks, anyway,” Shane said.

“ _Fuck no,_ ” Daryl’s voice rang from upstairs, “ ‘sides, I’m around _you_ dicks all day, they ain’t goin’ in my room.”

Shane chuckled to himself, “Daryl’s all dicked-out, boys.”

Dale sat back against the sofa as Shane spoke, “So, they ain’t going in your room,” he pointed to Dale, “or yours,” he motioned towards Glenn, “they ain’t going in Daryl’s and they sure as shit ain’t going in mine,” he looked between the two of them, “so that leaves one person.”

Dale and Glenn nodded before Glenn spoke, “I’ll distract him but you make it quick.” He told Dale.

Later that night Tyreese walked up to his room and flipped on the light, only to find that on every surface in his room were rows and rows of dildos. He just stared at them for a minute before Daryl came up behind him, “Merle told Dale he had to move ‘em, you weren’t around for the decision.” Is all Daryl said as he walked by him.

As he tried to sleep that night, Tyreese thought of all the ways he could possibly get back at the old man, and when he did, he plotted of all the ways he could get even with the old man, and he came up with the perfect plan.

The next day turned out to be quite entertaining to say the least.

As they were all gathered round having a late meal before the Golden Blade officially reopened, Merle barged into the kitchen and looked at Dale with a furious gleam in his eyes, “You think yer funny, don’t ya?” he asked, his voice raspy and low.

Dale looked like a deer in headlights as he stuttered, “Um, n-no, what-why?”

Merle grabbed Dale by the collar of his Hawaiian shirt and dragged him out front to the massive wooden desk. Merle let go of his collar and pulled one of the drawers of the desk open. Inside the drawer, at least ten dildos were scattered. Merle opened another drawer, and another drawer; they all held the same contents.

“Glenn, get yo’ skinny yello’ ass out here!” Merle shouted. Moments later, Glenn was there in the doorway. Merle smiled vilely at him, “The governor ‘as been missing you, boy, he already made his appointment for tonight.” Glenn cringed. “But, I say we give ol’ Dale here a turn with our friend, hmm?” Merle said in a hum.

Dale’s face went pale. “Get this shit out of my desk or I swear to God I’ll tell the governor to take your old ass home with ‘im when he leaves.” Merle took a deep breath and looked to Glenn, “Let Daryl know to get ready too. He’s got a customer coming in.”

Glenn practically bounced out of the room and Merle headed towards the bar, leaving Dale alone and stared into space with a look of horror.

When Glenn made it back into the kitchen he sat down and smiled at his sandwich, “Daryl you have a customer coming.” he said, still smiling awkwardly as he bit into his food with a look of pure bliss on his face.

Tyreese sat on the other side of the table trying to hold in his laughter as he heard Dale shuffling up and down the stairs, delivering the dildos back to his room.

He’d hear from Dale about this later, but for now he couldn’t care less.


	5. Good Night For Some, Bad For Others

**_Author's Note: Okay so this is my first gay fanfic/sex scene so don't judge too harshly!_ **

* * *

 

In this case, however, he’d found no resolution.

Lori had often wished that he’d just break down and yell at her, break things, push them over, just something to show that he gave a damn. Even now, he was silent in his anger. He hadn’t spoken to her in days, but he couldn’t hide those cold stares that cut her to pieces.

She hated it, but refused to be the first to say anything about the cloak or why it had been placed on the bed. She was always the first one to speak, so if he wanted silence then she’d finally give it to him. But what was so infuriating about it all was that he was content in the absence of discussion. It didn’t bother him in the least.

He’d go out each day; to where, she didn’t know, and stay out all day, leaving her in their mansion with nothing to do. One day she’d ventured out and told Shane of the cloak and Rick’s behavior, to which he became alarmingly serious.

“He was here the other night,” he told her.

“What did he say?” she asked, assuming he’d come to speak to his best friend.

“He didn’t come to see _me,_ ” her face dropped as her anger began to practically boil inside her veins, “he was with Daryl.”

“What, he was _sleeping_ with him?”

“No, they were playing hide and go seek around a brothel,” he said with sarcasm coating his words, “ _yes,_ they were sleeping together. The fire interrupted it, though.”

“Good,” she said, the gears in her head turning, “then I can still pull him back in. It’ll take a while, but we can move past this.” Shane’s eyes stared coldly back at her before he straightened himself up and escorted her to the door of his room.

“Maybe you should take some time and figure out if you actually want to ‘pull him back in’.” he looked out the door away from her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You came here for a _reason,_ Lori. Rick did, too.” With that, Lori stomped out and hadn’t been back since.

For Lori, that brothel was the eye of the storm, but for Rick it seemed to be his refuge.

The first night it reopened, he decided to take Merle up on his offer after all. And Rick was glad he did.

Daryl led Rick up to his room once again, and closed the door after him. In the end, neither one remembered who had made the first move, it hardly mattered.

After a heated kiss that lasted only moments, the two fell back against the bed. Rick landed on his back with Daryl coating his neck in a mixture of kisses and bites from his spot above him. Rick made quick work of Daryl’s shirt as Daryl’s mouth continued its work on his skin. Daryl’s hand cupped Rick through his jeans and began to rub him at a torturingly slow pace. He picked up the pace when Rick mumbled a curse under his breath.

Daryl let go of Rick’s neck only to claim his lips in a deep kiss as the friction became almost unbearable, for both of them. Rick relieved himself of his own shirt and went to work on Daryl’s pants when Daryl leaned back a bit and stared down at Rick as his fingers pushed his jeans down over his hips.

All of a sudden, Daryl pushed off of the bed and walked over to his dresser, where he quickly pulled out a drawer and took something from it.

A moment later, he turned and tossed a condom pack that landed on Rick’s abs. Rick picked it up and just held it. He looked back to Daryl, who pushed the rest of his jeans off and ripped open a wrapper of his own.

Rick watched from his spot propped up on his elbows as the other man rolled the condom over his well sized cock and rubbed it a couple times as he made his way back to the bed. Rick hadn’t moved an inch, and had kept the condom in his fingers.

Daryl came to the edge of the bed and dropped to his knees between Rick’s legs. His fingers curled under the hem of Rick’s jeans and tugged a bit. Rick realized his intention and raised his hips so that Daryl could slip them down and off. Grateful to be freed from his jeans tight confines, Rick’s member sprang forward, hard and ready.

Daryl’s hands gripped Rick’s thighs in a firm grasp and he slowly leaned forward. When Daryl skipped over his cock, Rick nearly let out a disappointed sigh. Daryl continued to lean forward so that his face came just short of Rick’s. He looked in his icy blue eyes for a brief moment before reaching over and sliding the condom from between Rick’s fingers.

A moment later, Daryl was back between Rick’s legs. Rick watched intently as the other man brought the wrapper to his lips and tore it open with his teeth. The two made eye contact for a brief moment as Daryl rolled the cool rubber over him and stroked him.

Rick closed his eyes and let himself relax.

Daryl was anything _but_ relaxed, he’d never been with a man before, and he was making it up as he went.

Daryl pushed himself back onto the bed above Rick, who laid back and let Daryl take the lead, justifying it by assuming he’d done this dozens of times before, given his profession.

Daryl’s lips ghosted over Rick’s as his mind raced of how to make this work. “Flip over,” he said, leaning back out again to allow Rick the room to move.

Rick hesitated, but did as Daryl said, mostly because he was so out of his comfort zone it was almost comical. Almost.

Daryl just stared down at Rick as he laid down on the bed. Daryl’s hand came under Rick’s stomach and motioned him to lift himself up.

Once Rick was positioned up on his arms, Daryl used his knee to nudge Rick’s legs further apart. Rick was slow to respond and obviously hesitant.

Daryl inched closer to Rick until the shaft of his member brushed up against Rick’s entrance. Reaching around him, Daryl wrapped his hand around his customer’s cock, stroking it just as he had before; slow and teasing.

After a few good strokes Rick’s breath was growing heavier, and his muscles rippled subtly beneath his skin as he moved with Daryl’s hand.

When he was sure Rick was halfway there, Daryl released him, leaving Rick with heavy breath and a frustrated grunt.

Daryl lined himself up, and he eased himself in.

The muscles in Rick’s thighs locked up, and his head fell forward as he let out a noise that was halfway between a moan and a gasp.

A growl sounded in Daryl’s throat as he began to move inside Rick, whose muscles were far too rigid. And he was far too tight for this to last long, unless Daryl got him to relax.

As Daryl picked up his pace, he leaned over Rick’s back, biting the man’s neck again as he reached around him and reclaimed his member in his grip. In no time, Rick was moving with him again, and his muscles relaxed, allowing Daryl some breathing room.

Rick’s sounds drove Daryl on as he moved in him back and forth. Usually he just went through the motions while on the job, but this….this was different. His senses, nerves, movements, everything was heightened; it was new and foreign and strange, here he was, fucking this man two different ways at the same time. Just the thought of the man’s blue eyes beneath him as they rolled back in his head was enough to end him right there.

Daryl felt Rick’s body grow rigid once more beneath him and he slowed the pace of his hand as he finished. Rick’s muscles squeezed him tightly and forced him to his own climax.

When it was done, Daryl withdrew from him and stood as he slipped his used condom off and tied it at the end.

Sometimes Daryl would be unlucky enough to end up with women who wanted to ‘cuddle’ after sex. While cuddling might be all well and good with your boyfriend or wife or whatever, this was a brothel, you came for sex, not love.

When Rick hesitated to move, Daryl was almost afraid that Rick had expected something more after that. Luckily, moments later Rick moved off the bed as Daryl tossed his condom into the trash and slipped his jeans back on.

Minutes later, both were fully dressed once more, though silence was still bare in the room. Neither knew what to say and so neither said anything. Before Rick opened the door and left, the two shared one quick glance that ended too soon on both accounts.

The next morning started as any other, with all the housemates gathered around the table, talking of last night’s events as they ate their omelets that Shane had thankfully not cooked. It was Glenn’s turn to cook today and after spending a night sans governor, he was all too pleased to do so. He even whistled a happy tune as they cooked.

“So how was it last night, Daryl?” Shane asked with a laugh in his voice. Daryl stabbed at his omelet.

“How was what, dumbass?” he said.

“Aw, c’mon now, man, Merle said you had a fella comin’ in,” he said. Daryl ignored him until he added, “Were you top or bottom?” He asked.

Daryl bit his lip on accident just thinking about it. “Top,” he said, trying to cover up the fact that he had bitten himself at thought of Rick below him.

“Yes!” Tyreese shouted as Shane sighed and pulled out his wallet, “Pay up!”

Shane pulled out a 20 and handed it over the table. Daryl narrowed his eyes at Shane, “Nothin’ personal, man, I just thought you’d go bottom.” Daryl licked the blood from the inside of his mouth as he looked over at Tyreese.

“You look like shit,” he said. Tyreese looked up at him and his smile fell away.

“Haven’t been able to sleep much,” he said as he picked his fork back up, “there’s just something so….unnatural. It ain’t right to sleep in a room with that many dicks, man.” All the housemates laughed at Tyreese’s obvious discomfort, all except Dale.

“What’s wrong with you, man?” Shane asked.

Dale looked up and around the table until he got to Glenn. His eyes grew dark under his bushy eyebrows and Glenn looked back with complete understanding.

Dale snapped out of it and stared down at the table as he spoke, “The uh, the governor,” he began, “made me put a sack over my head,” his voice began to shake, “and moan…and moan as he...” he trailed off.

Every housemate either smothered themselves with their napkins or with their hands to keep from laughing.

When they’d regained themselves, Shane leaned over and patted the old man’s shoulder soothingly.

“Fuck you, Dale.” He said as he burst out in a fit of laughter.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** **I reallllyyy need to quit screwing with Dale, poor guy.**_


	6. Payday Mayday

If there was one time Merle hated, it was the second or so week of every month.

As he collected his box and made his way around the brothel, he couldn’t help but grind his teeth together. Nothing pissed him off like payday.

He began walking away from his desk towards the stairs, but just as he was about to pass the kitchen doorway, Glenn popped his head out, providing a perfect target for Merle’s frustration.

Reaching into his money box, Merle pulled out a heavy bag of Glenn’s cut, and threw it at his head.

The bag hit with such force that the unsuspecting Glenn stumbled back into the kitchen, narrowly keeping himself on his feet as he cradled his nose, “What the hell!?” He asked as he drew away his hands from his nose. Seeing no blood, he began to test the skin with his fingers.

“Open up yer eyes next time, sonny, maybe you’ll actually see that coming.” Merle chuckled as he climbed the stairs.

In the kitchen, Glenn mumbled, “Racist prick,” as he collected his money from the ground.

Merle looked into Daryl’s room only to find it empty. He knew well enough to know if Daryl wasn’t in his room, he was out back. Continuing on his delivery route, Merle walked on until he reached Tyreese’s room.

Tyreese sat on his bed looking over at his dresser, which was covered with dildos of all sizes, shapes, and colors. As Merle approached, Tyreese’s eyes stayed locked on the sex toys.

Merle came into the room slowly, and followed Tyreese’s eyes to the dresser. “It just ain’t right, man.” Tyreese said, shaking his head.

“You work in a whorehouse, jackass.” He said, laughing. He grabbed Tyreese’s bag of money and lined up the synthetic phalluses in his sight.

He tossed the bag underhanded, knocking all of the dildos off of the dresser. He wheezed a chuckle, “That’s a strike.” He said cheerily as he strutted out of the room and went on with his business, leaving Tyreese to look around the room at his bookshelf, which was also covered in dildos.

Next up was Dale, who was laying back on his bed, taking a nap. Merle looked up at the ceiling and smiled as he reached into his ammunition box and armed himself once more.

Merle underhanded the money so that the bag would launch to the ceiling, slam against it, and come down with a heavy force- right onto the sleeping man’s face.

In a panic, Dale flipped himself off of the bed and landed on the floor clutching his face. Merle laughed for a minute before leaving with a quick, “Jackass!” to echo behind him.

Not bothering to stick around for the old man’s sounds of pain, Merle continued on his crusade once more.

The bad part about Shane was that there was no way he would fall victim to Merle’s throwing money game, so he just tossed the bag into his open room. He had bigger fish to fry anyway.

Daryl stood out in the backyard of the brothel, dressed in his usual sagging jeans and cut off flannel shirt. The yard around him held a surprisingly well maintained garden, one that was rarely visited by most of the housemates.

Daryl lined up his crossbow with his target; a large red target painted on the biggest tree in the yard. He’d already fired a shot, and was currently trying to shoot the arrow he’d already fired and land as close to it as possible.

Just as he was about to fire, something flew right in his point of view. In the blink of an eye, Daryl took aim at the flying object and fired. The object fell to the ground with a thud and Merle appeared beside him, “Nice shot, little brother,” he said with a smile on his face.

Daryl walked over and recovered the object, which turned out to be his payment. His arrow was halfway stuck through the bag, and Daryl pulled it out with an angry huff. “What the hell, Merle?” Daryl asked, not really expecting an answer. “I know you hate payday, don’t mean you have to throw the damn money,” he grumbled.

Merle kept the smile on his face, but looked down at the blade that served in place of his hand. “Yeah, I know.” Merle responded, “Just heard this morning you have an early appointment,” Merle said, his smile fading as he looked over at his brother while he pulled the arrow from the bag. “Looks like you got yerself a regular, boy.”

Daryl opened up the bag and pulled out his money, which had a good size hole in it, though he didn’t see why it wouldn’t be useable.

“Let me guess; Rick Grimes,” Daryl grumbled as he tried to straighten out one of the bills.

“Mmhmm,” Merle confirmed as he spit on the ground. Merle hooked his thumb around his belt and let the now empty money box fall to the ground. “He’s a good customer to have,” Merle said as he kicked at the box, “make sure you keep him happy, hmm?”

Daryl said nothing, he just tucked his money into his back pocket, reloaded his crossbow and fired again at the target on the tree trunk. Merle didn’t expect his brother to answer, so he decided to leave it at that and walk back inside to his desk.

Sitting back down in his throne-like chair, a smirk spread across Merle’s face as he thought how someone had framed Dale the other day. He’d known immediately it wasn’t the old man’s doing, he didn’t have the backbone for it, and sure as hell wasn’t stupid enough either.

Merle pulled out one of his desk drawers and opened his cigar box. He plucked a Cuban from the box along with the lighter he kept beside it before he closed the drawer and leaned back in his seat as he put the cigar between his lips and lit the end.

As smoke nearly billowed from his lips Merle leaned forward and pulled another, larger drawer open and let it remain so as he stared down into it.

He liked a lot of things about his job; he liked knowing what wives were cheating, which husbands were living a lie, the dirty kinks and secrets that were usually kept hidden away, he enjoyed toying with his employees, but mostly, Merle enjoyed his own payday.

He smiled down at the neatly packed stacks of revenue and etched another mark onto the desk with his blade.

Later that night, Daryl found himself leading Rick Grimes up the staircase and to his room. As he closed the door behind Rick, he sensed something different about the other man.

Rick walked past Daryl and deeper into the room. He kept his back to Daryl as he looked around at the furniture that he hadn’t much cared about before but for some reason seemed captivated with now.

As Daryl locked the door, Rick turned back to him, “You hunt?” he asked as he pointed to Daryl’s crossbow that was leaning against the side of his dresser.

Daryl shook his head slightly, not really finding why the hell that would matter. Rick nodded and ran his tongue over his lip quickly as he turned back to the crossbow. “I have a revolver collection at home,” Daryl noticed suddenly that Rick was tense, very tense.

He stood awkwardly clutching his coat in one of his hands, running his thumb over it firmly. “You ever shoot or do you just keep ‘em for show?” Daryl asked, not truly curious as to anything but as to why Rick was just now feeling shy. Usually it was the first time that clients are timid, not the second. At least with women that’s how it was.

Daryl suddenly realized what made this time so different. For both of them.

Rick looked over at Daryl briefly, “I do, actually, shoot ‘em, that is,” he looked back to the crossbow as Daryl took a step closer, “only in practice, of course.” Rick rambled.

Daryl came to stand right behind him. Rick closed his eyes and swallowed as his mouth went dry.

Rick could’ve played the first time off as a lapse in judgment, a decision made in a fit of betrayal, rage, resentment, it could’ve been a fit of insanity, even. He could play it off as a one-time thing.

Unless it happened a second time.

Then it would be because he wanted to, and there would be no playing it off.

Daryl stared at Rick’s closed eyes as he spoke, “Merle only gives refunds if it’s been less than five minutes,” Rick turned his head slightly towards Daryl and opened his eyes, “by my count it’s only been three.”

Rick looked back at Daryl and stared for a moment before he tossed his coat onto a nearby chair. Daryl actually felt relieved. Daryl nodded a bit, “Alright then,” he said, “take off your shirt.”

Daryl moved past him toward his dresser and pulled out a couple condoms from his drawer. He turned to find Rick unbuttoning his plaid flannel shirt and letting it fall to the ground. He kicked off his boots and loosened his belt. Daryl tucked the condoms into his back pocket.

Just as Rick slid his belt off, Daryl pressed himself against his back. Daryl reached around just as he had the first time, and made short work of the button and zipper on Rick’s jeans. Daryl’s hand snaked itself beneath the hem of the denim and into Rick’s boxers.

With nothing else to do with his hands, Rick grasped at Daryl’s hips as they pushed harder against him. Rick’s jaw clamped shut as Daryl’s hand encompassed his dick in a firm hold.

Daryl could feel Rick hardening as he slowly began to stroke him in his jeans. He began to push himself against Rick’s backside in rhythm with his strokes and soon the silence of the room was filled with heavy breathing and muffled grunts.

Daryl wasn’t moving fast enough for Rick’s liking, so he grabbed Daryl’s hand and held it against him as he turned around and pushed Daryl back across the room until his back hit the wall.

Daryl’s lips were practically smothered as Rick kissed him roughly. His hand was suddenly covered by Rick’s and Rick began to pump himself at a much faster speed than before, using Daryl’s hand to do it.

As Rick’s tongue pushed itself into Daryl’s mouth, Daryl began to work with Rick, pumping him relentlessly. Rick let go and cupped Daryl’s half hard erection through his jeans as Daryl continued his ministrations.

Rick pushed his hand into Daryl’s jeans and mirrored Daryl as he sucked on the pinned man’s neck.

Daryl finally had enough and pushed Rick’s pants down over his hips. He reached in his pocket and pushed Rick back off of him as he forced the condom into the other man’s hand.

Neither one of them wasted time shredding the wrappers and sliding the rubbers on.

Just as Daryl finished, Rick pulled him forward off the wall by his cutoff shirt, which was then promptly ripped off and tossed aside.

Ricked pushed Daryl back on the bed and in a moment was standing at the foot of the bed, grabbing at the top of Daryl’s jeans and pulling them off of him.

Rick leaned over him and forced him back against the bed with a deep kiss. Rick grasped Daryl’s cock in his hand and began to jerk him off just as before. Daryl’s head fell back against the bed and Rick’s mouth took advantage by sucking at the same spot on Daryl’s neck.

Daryl’s hands came up to squeeze Rick’s shoulders as a moan forced itself from his throat. Finding the opportunity irresistible, Rick leaned back and lined himself up with Daryl’s entrance.

Daryl could feel Rick getting ready so he braced himself against the sheets. As Rick pushed into him, Daryl ground his teeth together and let out a small growl.

It was unpleasant, but it sure as hell wasn’t pleasant, either. Especially when Rick thrust his full length into him and began to find a rhythm.

Daryl took hold of his cock and Rick put his fist into the bed for more stability as he moved into the man below him. Daryl pumped himself furiously in an attempt to drown out the foreign sensation of a man’s dick inside him.

After a while though, he found himself moving with Rick, and using the same rhythm on himself. Rick grunted and buried his teeth lightly into Daryl’s shoulder, in a few more thrusts, his body went rigid as he thrust once-twice more.

Daryl let out something of a breathless gasp as he felt a new heat inside of him at Rick’s release. The sensation was enough to send him over the edge along with the man over him.

Rick pulled out and rolled over beside Daryl on the bed as the two regained their breath and energy. As Rick stared up at the ceiling, he felt Daryl’s eyes on him.

Looking to the side he found himself locking eyes with Daryl, and he came to a realization.

The first time could’ve been a mistake, but a second time was deliberate.

Rick wondered what a third time would mean.

He wasn’t the only one.

It wasn’t often that Merle gave housemates nights off, but sometimes, he had no choice. Glenn had come down with a fever and he was a disgusting, nose-running, sweaty little mess. And no one wanted to fuck that.

And so, Glenn had been given the night off. But his night had been booked by a certain customer, and customers were not to be left unattended.

Tyreese sat in his dildo-infested room, trying to read and ignore the sounds that came from Shane’s room. When a knock sounded at his door, he expected it to be Merle or maybe Dale.

He definitely didn’t expect the governor who had now been made notorious around the brothel. As the tall man locked eyes with Tyreese, Tyreese wished he could disappear, or melt into the floor, or anything really.

When the deviant in his doorway peered over to the rows of dildos, Tyreese wished he could just flat out die.


	7. Small Problems, Bigger Lies

Daryl laid back on his mattress as his most recent customer, a blonde woman maybe in her mid-thirties, threw her clothes on as she spewed all sorts of angry grumbles that Daryl didn’t bother listening to as he rubbed his eyes with his hand.

No doubt the woman would march right down stairs and demand a full refund. No doubt that Merle would put up a fight- it’d been longer than five minutes after all- until the woman recounted the session to him, then he’d begrudgingly agree to the refund. And then he’d head straight up to Daryl’s room and tear his head off.

The woman stormed out and slammed the door behind her. Daryl took a deep breath and pushed himself up off the bed. He found his pants and pulled them on as he listened to the woman’s annoying voice complain downstairs.

It had started just like any other session, and it was going just like any session, until it stopped being like any other session. He was halfway done by his judgment when he opened his eyes and looked at the woman below him. She wasn’t the worst looking client he’d been with, not by a long shot.

And yet, he suddenly lost it.

Daryl walked over to his dresser and picked up the cigarette pack that he kept on top of it. He pulled one out and slipped it between his lips as he reached for his lighter. He lit the end of his cigarette and sucked a breath in as the front door of the Golden Blade opened and shut with a hearty slam.

A heavy foot took the first step up the staircase. Daryl walked to his bed and sat on the end of it as he waited for his brother to reach the top. He wasn’t waiting long before Merle swung the door open and stepped inside, grinding his teeth as he stared down at his younger sibling.

“I don’t give refunds,” Merle ground slowly, emphasizing each word with a low drawl, “you do know that, dontcha boy?” his eyes stared down at Daryl darkly but Daryl couldn’t find it in him to care much. He was more worried about other things.

“I don’t give refunds,” Merle repeated, “so you’d better find a way around your softie back up and running before your next customer or I swear to God I will let the governor have a go at you next.” Merle turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway, suddenly struck with a thought. He turned back to his brother, “This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Grimes, would it?”

Daryl bit the end of his cigarette a bit, he was wondering that himself and hadn’t yet come up with a conclusion. Or maybe he just hadn’t come up with a conclusion that satisfied him, and was trying to convince himself otherwise.

“No,” Daryl mumbled finally, “it doesn’t.”

Merle lingered a few moments longer, “Good.  Your next appointment is in two hours.” He turned and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving Daryl to think about the lie he’d just told his brother.

* * *

 

The next morning, just like every morning, began with breakfast, and it was Daryl’s turn to cook.

He stood behind the stove, flipping pieces of sausage in the large pan as the eggs solidified in the other. The housemates were all seated at the breakfast table, mostly silent. Which meant they all knew, because they were never quiet.

As if on cue, Shane cleared his throat and spoke up, “So, Daryl,” he began, licking the corner of his mouth as he always did when he was trying to keep from smiling, “I heard you had some trouble last night.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Daryl mumbled grumpily.

Shane held his hands up innocently, “Hey, I’m just tryin’ to help you out,”

“You know,” Dale chimed in, “I have some pills, if you want-”

Daryl pointed his spatula threateningly at them both, “This is none of y’all’s business, so _all of you_ shut the fuck up.” Dale looked down at the table and Shane looked to the side.

Glenn looked across at Tyreese, who looked even more out of it than he usually did these days. Dale noticed about the same time Glenn did and laid a hand on Tyreese’s shoulder. “We know,” he said quietly as Tyreese’s lips quivered a bit.

Shane narrowed his eyes at the three of them before opening his arms wide, “What the hell is the issue with this guy? Why do you all act like-like- man I don’t know,” the three of them looked over at Shane with set jaws and wild eyes, Shane wisely changed the subject, “Hey Daryl, is that almost done?”

“Fuck you,” came the reply. Shane closed his eyes and desperately tried to find some semblance of refuge from the three pairs of eyes locked on him at the moment.

“Aww, come on man, don’t be like that,” he said, turning in his chair to avoid looking at the other housemates to focus completely on Daryl, “listen, it happens, maybe you’ve just been working too much, ya know? I mean, you can’t overuse a knife or you need to sharpen it, this isn’t any different.” Daryl stared at Shane, considering what he was saying.

Daryl shook his head a bit, “Yeah, maybe.” he said, flipping the sausage patties a final time.

How the hell did someone ‘sharpen’ this ‘knife’?

* * *

 

During his first appointment that night, Daryl once again had difficulty. Except this time, he found a way to push through it. The resolution he found just wasn’t the resolution he’d hoped for.

He’d hoped that it was just what Shane had said; he was worn down a bit. But it wasn’t like he was doing six customers a night like Shane, who was all but made to be a prostitute, he usually kept to three or four, so he’d doubted that right away.

He’d also hoped that maybe it was just something about that woman that just didn’t appeal to him, even though she was good enough looking in comparison to some others he’d dealt with.

In a final lapse of wishful thinking, Daryl had hoped that it was just a onetime, physical lapse or maybe mental lapse that would never happen again.

There was a reason he didn’t like wishful thinking, and that was because things rarely turned out the way you wish them to.

The painful, frustrating, and overall just ugly truth was that that night, when he was trying to get himself going, he closed his eyes and saw pale blue ones staring back at him.

He kept his eyes closed all through the sessions, seeing what he wanted to see.

And that was Rick.

And that was bad.

Bad for business and bad for him, too. If he couldn’t get it up he couldn’t do his job. What’s worse, if he couldn’t get it up without thinking of Rick it would mean he’d broken the basic rule of being a prostitute:

Do. Not. Get. Attached.

They kept emotions out of it, for the same kind of reason they wore condoms.

If you get a woman pregnant, you have a tie to them. Congrats, kid, you’ve got a prostitute as a dad. If you get attached to someone, you have a tie to them, just the same. You cannot be a significant other as well as a prostitute. It’s impossible to be both. Pick one.

When his night was over, Daryl changed the sheets on his bed and laid down without bothering to straighten them out much, it’s not like it mattered anyway; tomorrow he’d just have to change them again.

Daryl laid down on his bed and tried his best to convince himself out of the conclusion he’d reached. The conclusion that was that Rick was the only thing that seemed to excite him now.

He told himself that he’d been doing women for a long, long time. Rick was just like the new toy in the toy box; he’d get past the newness of it all and in the end, sex would just be sex all the same, whether it was with a man or a woman, Rick or not, it would hardly matter.

Daryl wondered how many times he’d lied this week, and didn't like the fact that he just seemed to have added another to the count.

* * *

 

Rick sat in his living room, just watching the fireplace as the flames consumed another piece of wood.

He bit his lip and laid back against the couch as he heard Lori shuffling around upstairs. He was sleeping in a different room as of late, and found that he slept better doing so.

In truth, he’d longed for someone to sleep next to him, just not her.

Rick covered his face with his hands and sighed; he couldn’t keep doing this to himself. The entire thought was ridiculous. ‘I’ve paid you to have meaningless sex with me. Twice. But I think there’s a real connection here’.

Yeah, that’d work.

He was being an idiot.

Rick laid his arms back down at his sides and wondered just how many people Daryl had sex with a day. Rick told himself that he was just another customer to Daryl, and here _he_ was, trying to put feelings in a business where feelings were by design not involved.

Or at least they weren’t meant to be.

Of course, it might be that he was just lonely, what with his wife getting whatever the hell she needs from the same damn place.

Rick’s thoughts paused for a second, waiting for a sharp drop in his gut at the thought of his wife with another man. He waited for the pang of jealousy, or maybe just anger.

He felt nothing.

Not a damn thing.

He wasn’t quite sure when exactly he’d stopped caring, but apparently he had. Rick suddenly smiled and he couldn’t help but laugh as thought about the irony of a husband and wife cheating on each other at the same whorehouse.

Maybe they’d run into each other sometime, Rick thought.

He chuckled a bit before the wood cracked and a piece that reminded Rick of an arrow sprung up from the main piece. Rick stared at it and thought he’d make another appointment for tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.

He didn’t know how to schedule these things. For a doctor’s visit, you go every couple of months, same with the dentist or something as equally annoying. For a haircut, maybe every two, three months or so.

Rick wondered what the appropriate amount of time was between appointments.

Though, he supposed nothing about this was meant to be appropriate, so he brushed the thought away and decided he’d go the day after tomorrow, just to be safe.


	8. Let's Have a Ball

_**Author's Note: Okay, so funny story, there was a sudden jump in kudos last chapter, which got them up to 99. I thought 'woa' I need to start writing so I can release a 'thank you for 100 kudos!' chapter. So I wrote it but got done and we're still at 99, so here's my 'thanks for (almost) 100  kudos!' chapter!  To celebrate, I thought it'd be nice to throw a party for our lovely housemates to enjoy, or not enjoy, or be miserable at. Any one of those works. ^_^ So, yeah. Enjoy!** _

* * *

 

“Since when did we become escorts?” Tyreese asked in confusion as he stared down at the ticket in his hand that Merle had just handed to him and all the other housemates.

“Since our customers asked for ‘em,” Merle replied harshly. Tyreese swallowed his objections and looked back down at the ticket to avoid Merle’s eyes. “Now y’all already have your dates lined up, tonight is strictly an escort, none of your customers wanted an overnight experience,” Merle said as he focused on Shane, who had his finger stuck digging around in his ear. Merle rubbed his forehead, “Can’t see why,” he groaned as Shane picked something out of his ear and flicked it away.

Merle began walking towards the bar, “The ball is tomorrow night, now get yer ugly asses out of my face.” He said just barely loud enough for them to hear him as he took a bottle off the shelf and grabbed a glass from under the bar.

Tonight there were no appointments, which was very rare. It wasn’t for a lack of business, it was simply that as Shane had said, every blade needs a break to be sharpened. Or sheathed altogether, as it would be.

Even Merle understood this, so the Golden Blade was closed tonight, as it would also be tomorrow when all the housemates were off at the annual town ball, ‘escorting’ and what not.

The ball itself was nothing quite so grand, the venue was nice, certainly, with its ornate ballroom with marble floors and high ceilings painted intricately, but that was all that was nice about the ball. The people of the town showed up every year, mostly to appease tradition, but they stayed for the chance to gloat to their peers whilst consuming free food and drinks.

Of course, while the people all gloated of their perfect lives and their wealth and families and so on, there were always those who did not have much to say. The outsiders whom no one associated with, usually for good reason.

This year, instead of enduring the isolation, drinking in silence as well as abundance, and leaving at a premature hour, these outsiders decided to hire themselves escorts for the evening.

There were no repercussions that could sprout from their actions because anyone who exposed the escorts as male prostitutes would also be exposing themselves as patrons at the local whorehouse, and no one wanted that on their reputation. That was the entire reason Merle kept everything so confidential.

The appointments were made and details smoothed over.

It was official; the housemates were going to a ball.

* * *

 

The night before the ball some of the housemates found themselves quite busy, captivated with a plan they’d conjured up for a friend of theirs.

Tyreese, Glenn, and Dale all sat at the bar huddled closely together, whispering to one another. “Did you tell Daryl what time the meeting was?” Dale asked Glenn as he looked over to the stairs to see if Daryl was coming down the stairs.

Glenn nodded, “Yeah, I told him, he should be-” Glenn cut himself off when Shane stepped out of the kitchen and looked over at them.

“What the fuck are you pricks doin’?” Shane asked, more interested in the bottle of vodka they had opened than why they were sitting so closely together.

Glenn sat up straight almost immediately and avoided Shane’s eyes suspiciously. Luckily for him, Shane’s eyes were still locked on the bottle of vodka as he crossed the room towards the bar. “We’re just, uh,” Dale stammered, looking for an explanation, not that one was really necessary since Shane wrapped his hand around the bottle and turned away, “writing a grocery list.” He finally spat out.

Shane laughed a bit to himself as he walked away with the bottle clutched in his hand, “Well, you might want to add some of this to your list ‘cuz you won’t be seeing it again.” As he made his way upstairs, the remaining housemates glanced at each other with angry eyes.

Moments after Shane had left the room, Daryl stepped into it. He looked at the three faces staring at him and stopped in the entryway, wondering what the hell was going on.

Dale jumped up from his seat and rushed toward Daryl, who resisted his urge to punch the wide eyed old man who was rushing at him. “Daryl,” the older housemate said in an enthusiastic whisper, “we have a plan!” He said as he clutched both of Daryl’s arms on his hands.

Daryl squinted his eyes at the old man, “A plan for what?”

“To get back at Shane, of course!” Daryl looked between Tyreese and Glenn for a moment before he realized that all three of them were in agreement on this ‘plan’.

Daryl turned and headed straight back up the stairs to his room.

Dale always came up with these little plans to get at Shane. Usually, they were just Dale’s creations. Usually, Dale’s plan backfired and ended up with him in some sort of trouble with Merle. Daryl didn’t need another Merle encounter on his hands, so there was no way he’d be a part of this.

Dale was left standing in the middle of the room staring after Daryl. “So, should we…go ahead with the plan?” Glenn asked hesitantly.

Dale stood, staring up the staircase as Shane walked down the hall into one of the bathrooms. A dark glint came into Dale’s eyes and he ground his teeth together. That slippery bastard Shane always found a way out of his plots, but not this time.

“Yes,” he said in a darker voice than usual, “he needs a taste of our poison.”

Glenn and Tyreese looked at each other as the both started cracking up laughing. Dale turned and looked at them defensively, “What?” he asked.

“Just,” Glen said as he quieted, “don’t do that again.”

“Do what?” Dale pouted.

“Try to sound cool, just don’t try.” Glenn finished as he broke into another fit of laughter along with Tyreese.

“Shut up, let’s just figure this out.” Dale grumbled as he returned to his seat.

* * *

 

The next night turned out to be quite eventful for the housemates.

They were all dressed up in their best suits, which were rarely used, and as Merle put it, “All prettied up.”

As promised, their dates arrived at their specified times. As anticipated, each of them was somewhat of an outsider. None of their names were terribly important, as they were not very prominent figures in the town. 

Glenn’s date arrived first, and it was immediately clear what made her an outsider. The aging woman, perhaps in her mid-forties was still quite beautiful. Glenn imagined that she might have been graceful, too, had she not already been completely falling down drunk.

As the two were departing from the Golden Blade, the woman tripped over her extravagant dress and ended up on the ground, where she proceeded to laugh uncontrollably and roll around until Glenn hoisted her drunken ass up.

Tyreese’s date was the next to arrive, and at first it was a mystery to him why she would be considered an outsider. Then she broke down crying over her love of baboons. At one point she called them ‘God’s greatest creation’. By the time they had arrived at the ball, Tyreese was contemplating whether or not to find the bar and stick to it all night.

Dale’s date was an adorable elderly woman, one with poise and grace. That is, until it was revealed that she began talking of her late husbands. All eleven of them. Who had all died in bed after a late night bottle of wine which the woman had insisted on having.

Dale made a mental note not to drink anything the woman handed him. Especially not wine.

Daryl’s date was arguably the ‘best’ of them all. She was young and relatively attractive. She didn’t burst out crying over primates or stumble through doorways, she was just…very affectionate. As the two were walking simply out the door, she decided that a good ol’ ass grab was in order. Daryl once again resisted an urge to throw a fist.

There was no way it was a coincidence that he got the touchy feely one of the bunch; Merle set this one up on purpose. Daryl could already tell this was going to be a long night.

Shane’s was the last to arrive, and once again it was apparent why the woman, who was maybe thirty or so, would be unable to find a date on her own. The woman’s first words to him was an insult to his suit and tie, and then she broke out in a fit of curse words that spewed from her mouth uncontrollably.

Turns out that not only was the woman a rude shrew, she had terrets, too.

As they walked into the ballroom, she screamed, “BALL SHIT DICK LICK!” Shane’s face reflexively fell into his hand as every single face in the place turned and looked at the woman. Glenn, Tyreese, and Daryl all tried to control their laughs as best they could.

* * *

 

Overall, the party was strange for the housemates. It was a welcome strangeness, because all of them appreciated a break from their usual nighttime activities, but the night was on the edge of going down as a good memory, or a horrible disaster that should never be discussed.

They each followed their dates around all night, and smiled quietly as they were introduced as boyfriends, husbands, and as Dale was introduced by his murderess quite jokingly, “my newest victim, oh, I mean husband.” The other guests forced themselves to laugh with the woman, all while giving Dale pitiful looks.

The ballroom was full of people laughing, mingling, dancing, drinking, everything regular people do, and the housemates began to find it even more tiring than their usual nocturnal activities. At least with those there was an end in sight.

Eventually, Tyreese was able to sneak away from his date as she once again began discussing her passion for primates with some unfortunate partygoers. He gave her maybe two minutes until she broke into tears.

He ordered a whiskey at the bar and drank it quickly.

“Whiskey?” Glenn asked as he came to Tyreese’s side at the bar. “I’ll have one,” he told the bartender quickly.

Tyreese looked up and noticed that Glenn was sweating. “Where’s your date?” he asked.

Glenn looked at him and closed his eyes as he said as if it pained him, “She’s taking a bath.”

Tyreese’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief, “A bath?” he echoed.

Glenn nodded and grabbed his whiskey as it was set before him, “That fountain beneath the staircase…?” Tyreese’s eyes bulged and he looked toward the staircase.

The staircase was one that wound down in something of a curl, and the inside of the curl was decorated with a beautiful round fountain that fit perfectly into it. Tyreese began breathing heavily when he saw Glenn’s middle aged date spinning uneasily in the water, her dress sopping wet as she drunkenly swayed to the music with a bottle in her hand.

The strange thing was, no one in the ballroom really seemed to care that there was a quite intoxicated woman dancing alone in the fountain, they made it seem like it was as normal as Tuesday following Monday.

“That’s not the worst part,” Glenn said after he’d chugged down his whiskey.

Tyreese looked back to him, “What could be worse than that?”

“The governor is here.” Glenn didn’t turn around, but pointed behind his back across the ballroom, “Right over there, standing with a woman who I assume is his wife.” Tyreese followed Glenn’s finger to see the governor staring blatantly.

Tyreese turned toward the bar as an unpleasant memory clouded his mind. “What the hell is he doing here?”

Glenn shrugged, “How should I know?”

“You don’t think this will ruin the plan, do you?” Glenn shook his head and took the final sip of his drink.

“That guy never misses an appointment. He’ll jump at the chance.” Tyreese nodded.

“Well, that’s comforting.”

“What is?” Tyreese and Glenn turned to see Shane joining them at the bar. “I’ll take the strongest thing you’ve got.” He told the bartender as he rubbed his forehead.

“Nothing,” Glenn said quickly.

Tyreese cleared his throat, “So, where’s _your_ date?”

Shane opened his mouth to say something along the lines of ‘don’t know, don’t care,’ but was interrupted by a woman’s scream, “FUCK THE FUCKING FUCKERS!” He closed his mouth and pointed in the direction of the shriek.

“Right over there.” He said tiredly.

“At least you’ll never lose her.” Daryl chimed in as he joined them.

“I wish I could lose mine,” Dale mumbled as he, too, slipped in.

“Well, it seems like you _have_ ,” Tyreese noted.

“Yes, but for how long?” Dale questioned. “This woman wants to kill me, I just know it.”

For a few minutes the housemates reveled in having been rid of their dates. That is until Tyreese’s gaze fell unto the fountain. He grabbed Glenn’s shoulder and pointed towards it. “Glenn, your date-”

“Oh, shit!” he said as he ran off towards the staircase.

Glenn’s date must’ve thought that the fountain would be the ideal place to take a nap, because she was passed out lying in the water, and no doubt drowning in her own stupidity.

Quite literally.

As Glenn ran over to his date, Shane pointed out to Shane that his own date had a man by the neck and was shaking him. All because he’d finally told her that no one wanted to hear about the mating rituals of baboons.

Tyreese ran off to stop his charge from murdering a man in the middle of the ballroom.

Speaking of murder, not a moment had passed since Tyreese left than Dale’s had reappeared. She came to his side wide a glass of wine, no less. “Darling, there you are,” she greeted warmly, “I brought you a drink.” She pushed the drink into his hand and pulled him along towards the crowd.

Dale looked back at Shane and Daryl, begging for help. The two stared back without empathy.

Daryl and Shane watched as Glenn fished the drunk from the fountain, and Tyreese wrangled in his little monkey enthusiast as Dale tried to sneak dumping his wine in a plant.

By some miracle, the drunk was still alive and was giggling herself into a fit. The baboon lady was successfully thrown over Tyreese’s shoulder and was now being forcibly removed from the room. Dale sadly, did not succeed in dumping his wine and had to drink it down.

“TIT PRICKS!” Shane’s date screamed, “FUCKIN SHIT!” she screamed again.

Shane closed his eyes and regretfully crossed the room toward his date with the mouth of a sailor.

Daryl surveyed the crowd for a minute or two, wondering when his own date would act up or come to collect him to lie to everyone’s faces some more, either that or grab his ass some more.

He didn’t have to wait long, she was heading straight towards him now. She walked up to him with a wide smile and an overly friendly disposition. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss which he barely responded to.

When she pulled back she withdrew one of her hands from his neck and looked up at him questioningly, “Something wrong?” Something caught Daryl’s eye, and he looked through the crowd to see a familiar pair of icy blue eyes staring back at him, watching as the woman that was draped over him reached down and cupped his crotch with her hand as she leaned into his neck.

Daryl jumped a bit and pulled the woman’s hand away. “Why don’t you stay here and have a drink,” he said smoothly, “I need to use the bathroom.” He moved her to the bar and left before she could respond.

When he looked back to the spot where Rick was, it was empty.

Luckily Daryl caught sight of him just as he slipped out one of the glass doors leading to the balcony. Daryl waded through the dance floor in pursuit of him.

Rick had never liked this damned ball, he hated it, in fact. Every year was the same, the people were the same, and the topics were the same; which yacht they took to which vacation spot, how well their businesses were doing, what investments they made, it never ended.

He hated coming to the damn thing, he really did. Usually, Lori was the one who insisted on them going. This year was different, though. Lori hadn’t showed the least bit interest in going, and he couldn’t say he much cared whether or not she was there.

When she’d officially told him she wasn’t going was when he officially decided that he was. It was a good excuse to get away from the house as well as her without heading to the Golden Blade again. A good distraction was a welcome thing these days.

His solo arrival had mixed reactions from the partygoers.

The women were instantly set into predator mode. Rick was an influential, rich, attractive, charming, high ranking member of the community, of course they would salivate at any signs of discontent within his marriage.

The men were saddened by Lori’s absence. She was quite a catch herself, at least where they were concerned. Lori usually had at least a half dozen men ask her for a dance, which she accepted because she loved to dance as well as the attention she got from the men she danced with.

The entire night had consisted of women asking where Lori was, then them showering him with halfhearted sympathy when he told them that things were not going well between them. All the while they each schemed of how to make themselves the next Mrs. Grimes, and the word ‘divorce’ had never even been mentioned.

When Rick had finally escaped from the near horde of women, he found himself amongst the crowd, mingling and remembering why he hated this ball. Rich pricks and spoiled women was all that was ever here.

That is, that’s all that was ever here before tonight.

The first thing Rick noticed that was different was the woman who screamed obscenities as soon as she walked into the room. Rick nearly spat out his glass of champagne when he noticed it was none other than Shane escorting the woman down the staircase.

Minutes later, as he was still trying to hold in his laughter at his best friend being in such an unfortunate situation, he overheard a woman talking about how baboons’ butt swell up when they’ve come into mating season.

Rick immediately recognized the woman, though he couldn’t put a name to her. He knew her only as the woman who Lori called the ape lady, or something along those lines at least. It appeared not much had changed about the woman.

What _was_ different though was the fact that she was not alone tonight. Rick stared at the tall, dark man she was with and chuckled when he made eye contact with Shane and shook his head at him.

At that point, Rick recognized the man as another attendant from the Golden Blade. Rick had seen him sometimes when he came to visit Shane.

After that, a small hope grew inside Rick that he’d see the man he’d been trying to avoid for a few night now. Not that he really wanted to be apart from him in the first place.

He must’ve circled the place two times, if not three, in search of Daryl. He came up empty for the most part. It was when he decided that a drink was in order that he finally found the man.

And then, he hated to admit it, he got spooked.

The whole ‘careful what you wish for’ is the only thing he could think of to try to explain it. Rick had wanted to see him here, but not with a woman, undoubtedly a client, kissing his neck and feeling him up in the middle of the bar.

So he turned away and headed to the only place he could think of to go; the balcony.

When he stepped outside, the cool night air calmed him a bit, but just a bit.

He walked to the stone railing and leaned on it as he thought. Daryl had other customers; that had been obvious from the beginning. Maybe he wouldn’t feel so nauseous at the moment if she hadn’t been so hands-on, but there it was.

Rick took a deep breath of the cool air and tried to clear his head. This was all just one big mistake. A massive, messy mis-

Rick heard the door open and close behind him and he turned to see Daryl walking slowly over to him.

Rick turned back to the lights of the town he was previously overlooking and tried to relax as the other man came to stand beside him.

Daryl made sure to keep a respectable distance, in an attempt to keep this as comfortable as possible, or really just anything but awkward.

“This party sucks,” Daryl said, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and putting one between his lips.

Rick gave a huff of a laugh, “It’s always like this.” He said as Daryl lit his cigarette. Rick looked up the burning end.

“Want one?” Daryl asked.

Rick shook his head, “Nah,” he said, “I quit a couple years ago.” Rick bit his tongue for a few tense moments, trying to convince himself out of mentioning the woman from the bar. Obviously he failed because the next thing that came out of his mouth was, “Your date seems very friendly,” he tried to make it sound like a joke, he even through in a short chuckle at the end of it and pretended to not much care for a response.

Daryl nearly cracked a smile; he saw right through that. “She’s been being friendly with every man in there,” he said before he took a long breath of his cigarette, “I’m surprised _you_ haven’t got felt up yet.”

Rick genuinely chuckled at that. “Merle’s got us on escort duty tonight,” Daryl continued, feeling a sudden need to explain that he was not going to sleep with the sexual felon inside, “can’t wait to drop her ass off and be done with this shit.”

Daryl turned his back to the city below and leaned his lower back against the stone railing as he continued to smoke. “What, you’re saying that woman in there had a handful of you in there and she’s _not_ planning on sleeping with you?”

“Nope,” Daryl breathed out with a stream of smoke.

Rick lowered his head as he laughed. Daryl chuckled a bit; he hadn’t thought about it like that.

All of a sudden, there was a screeching in the streets below. Daryl turned around and squinted his eyes as a screaming voice shattered the quiet of the night, “SLUTTY DICK WHORE!” Rick and Daryl could barely make out Shane’s silhouette leading his date away from the building, but once they did, Rick couldn’t breathe, he was so immersed in laughter.

Daryl laughed a bit, but thought of all the ways he could use this incident against Shane. “Was she calling him that or just shouting it out?” Rick asked as he regained himself.

“I think that time she was talking to _him_ ,” Daryl said as he dropped his cigarette on the cement and crushed it under the sole of his shoe.

Rick and Daryl watched Shane and the woman until disappeared around the corner. Rick cleared his throat, “So, you’re not working tonight?” he asked, kicking himself mentally for being so obvious about what he was really asking.

The tiniest of smirks tugged at Daryl’s mouth. “You fixin’ to make an appointment?” he asked.

Rick didn’t say anything, he just smiled, mostly because he was trying to avoid saying it out loud. But it seemed that Daryl wasn’t going to let him. “I was thinking about it.” He admitted.

“You can come by and talk to Merle ‘bout it, but,” Rick’s head turned quickly at the word ‘but’, “I wouldn’t really consider that ‘work’.” With that, Daryl turned and headed back inside.

It took a minute of reviewing the words to realize what Daryl had meant, but when he did, he smiled widely.

Daryl made his way back inside just in time to see Glenn heading out with his date clinging to him as she tried to maneuver the stairs. Tyreese had most likely already left with his crazed ape lady and he’d just seen Shane depart, so that left only himself and Dale to account for.

Dale was on the far side of the room, and he looked like he was about to shit himself as he was handed another glass of wine by his homicidal faux wife.

Daryl spotted his date still at the bar. She cradled a champagne glass in her hand as she stared at a man’s ass. He made it over to her just in time for a man to stand up in the middle of the room and tap a spoon against a glass to gather everyone’s attention.

He cleared his throat as the room quieted. Daryl looked up to see none other than the ‘governor’ standing in the center of the dance floor. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, Daryl held in a laugh but couldn’t stop the smirk from crossing his face, “if I could pull your attention away for a minute, Mayor Grimes will now give his annual toast.”

Daryl’s smirk fell as Rick waded through the crowd and took the place of the governor. He smiled at the people, and the people smiled back. He told a joke, of which Daryl heard none of, and the people laughed. He carried on and gave a speech, which Daryl again heard none of.

At the end of it, Rick raised a glass to another prosperous year with friends and family, or something like that, and the crowd applauded enthusiastically.

But the entire time, all Daryl could think was:

“I fucked the mayor.”

* * *

_**Author's Note: Sooo...yeah. Thank you all for your kudos/comments/bookmarks! Happy to hear that you're enjoying the story!** _

_**You can follow me on tumblr at SweetDeceit fanfiction ^_^** _

* * *

 


	9. Party's Over

The party was winding down; most of the guests had left, leaving only a few souls lingering about the ballroom, the musicians were playing slower songs, signaling the end of the evening.

As Daryl drank down the rest of his whiskey. At some point during the night, he’d found himself back at the bar, he hadn’t had too much to drink though, he’d spent the last hour of the party just watching the people smile and laugh as they said their goodbyes and departed.

His date had demanded a dance or two from him, which wasn’t horrible, and after that she’d snuck off to ‘powder her nose’, not that he cared, really.

While he was waiting for her to return he watched Dale as he crossed the ballroom and whispered something to the governor, in which the tall man seemed to be very intrigued. The conversation only lasted a few moments because then Dale retreated back to his happy murderess.

After that, Daryl’s date returned and informed him that she’d be going home with a man she’d just bumped into, so his work for the night was done. He watched her as she left with the man, their hands groping each other’s ass as they walked out.

Daryl was happy to be rid of her; he hadn’t wanted to leave just yet. He found that he might’ve been actually enjoying the party. For several reasons.

For one, here, he had a perfect view of a certain mayor that he’d taken a liking to.

And then there was the people. He didn’t like them, at all, really. But when he looked around the room and saw the couples, it was strange to him. They were _real_ couples. Something Daryl was not accustomed to seeing.

Mostly at the Golden Blade, he saw bitter, unsatisfied spouses. It was…nice, in a way to see that there were actually happy couples out there.

In a business where everything was physical, it was refreshing for him to see an emotional aspect of relationships. It was a nice reminder there even _was_ an emotional aspect.

When he saw two men dancing together on the dance floor, and no one gave so much as a second glance at them, he couldn’t help but feel a stab of jealousy.

As he watched them, he once again locked eyes with Rick, who had also been watching Daryl from across the room, and had noticed he was watching the couple. The two stared at each other for a few moments before a few partygoers approached Rick and introduced themselves.

Daryl turned back to the bar and shook his head. He stayed there for a while, just listening to the music and waiting. For what, he wasn’t sure.

Eventually though, he stepped away from the bar and waded through the thinning crowd. He made his way up the stairs, and from there, back to the Golden Blade.

As he walked back, he breathed in the cool air and shoved his hands in his pockets as he passed by the streetlights. Lights in the windows of passing houses turned off, and the town seemed silent in the night.

When he reached his destination, he found that to be an incorrect assumption.

As soon as he walked through the heavy wooden door, he could hear the telltale sounds of business as usual. The sounds of the creaking bed told Daryl that it was Shane at work tonight.

Each housemate had their own ‘tell’; Shane’s was the bed posts creaking. Glenn’s as of late was a faint whimpering sound that he began doing after the governor. Dale’s was a sort of dry, hoarse moan that sounded quite painful. Tyreese was quiet for the most part when he worked, just the faint slapping of skin against skin could be heard from his room.

Daryl wasn’t quite sure what his ‘tell’ was, he preferred not to think about it, either.

Merle looked up from his desk when Daryl walked in and almost immediately let out a dry chuckle, “How was your date?” he asked, grasping the air in an attempt to mimic the girl’s pawing hands.

Daryl ignored Merle, “I have a customer coming,” he said as he became suddenly aware of Glenn and Tyreese looking utterly defeated slumped into the sofa in the living room.

Merle hummed cheerfully, “That’s what I love about you all, I give you the night off, and you bring ‘em in anyway.”

Daryl looked at Merle with narrowed eyes, “You didn’t tell me he was the fuckin’ mayor.” He stated with an accusing tone.

Merle shrugged, “I told you he was a good customer to have.” Daryl opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted before he could begin.

“FUCKIN SHIT PRICK!” Came from Shane’s room.

Merle burst out laughing as Daryl stared up the stairs and thought at least he was able to ditch his date, apparently Shane’s date had changed her mind about the overnight deal.

As Daryl stared, he heard Dale’s tell, and looked over to Glenn, who had his eyes buried into his hand as Tyreese took a deep, depressing breath.

Daryl walked over, “I take it your plan didn’t work out, then.”

Glenn shook his head, “We all chipped in a part of our pay to cover a session,” he said unhappily, “Dale was to tell the governor that he was getting a free session for ‘customer loyalty’ or some shit,” Glenn sat up and rubbed his face with both hands, “only when he got back, Shane already had that terrets woman in his room.”

“It took Merle maybe three seconds to figure out that it was Dale’s idea, so to fuck with him, he sent the governor up with him.” Tyreese finished.

Daryl shook his head as he loosened his bow tie. This was exactly the reason why he never got wrapped up in Dale’s schemes, they never work and they come at a price; no way he was willing to give up part of his pay for this shit.

Daryl made his way upstairs, leaving the two would-be conspirers to wallow in defeat.

As he climbed the stairs, he couldn’t help but laugh as he heard Dale’s tell again, and again, and again in a pathetic fashion.

When he made it to his room, Daryl slid his tux jacket off and hung it back up in his closet. He kicked off his shoes and put them in the back of his closet. He didn’t know exactly when Rick would be by, but for now he found peace in the fact that he wasn’t here now. It gave him time to think.

What the hell was Rick even doing? If the town knew what he was doing, they’d definitely kick his ass out of office. Not that that was necessarily Daryl’s problem to worry about, but still.

Daryl sat down on the edge of his bed and stretched his shoulders and neck. He laid back against his bed as he mumbled, “I fucked the mayor,” as he said it, he couldn’t help but laugh to himself.

It was probably the several drinks he’d had tonight, because this really wasn’t funny. Daryl decided that it was indeed funny, and continued laughing as he rubbed his face and the found it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

His laughing stopped and he took a couple deep breaths as he made a revelation, “I’m so fucked.”

At that moment, he heard the front door swing open, and heard Merle say, “He’s waitin’ for ya.” Footsteps sounded up the stairs a few moments later and Daryl sat up, feeling suddenly flustered.

His door swung open and Rick stepped inside, closing the door smoothly behind him as he made eye contact with Daryl.

His bow tie was undone around his neck, his shirt was untucked and his jacket was clutched in his hand. As he stepped further in, he tossed his jacket beside Daryl on the bed as he came to stand before him.

Rick’s hands came to either side of Daryl’s face as he leaned down for a deep kiss.

Daryl relaxed muscles he didn’t know were tensed as Rick leaned back. “I hate these things,” he said as he tore the bow tie from his neck and tossed it on top of his tux jacket. “How was your night?” he asked as he looked down at Daryl.

Daryl considered the question for a long moment. He thought of the drowning drunk, the baboon enthusiast, the frisky feeler, the shady old lady, the ‘governor’ and his little plot twist.

“Sure as hell wasn’t borin’,” is all that Daryl said. Staring up at Rick, he realized two things as he pulled him back in for another kiss.

One: He didn’t care that Rick was mayor, married, and basically unobtainable. He was getting attached to him.

Two: He was indeed definitely fucked.

The next morning at breakfast, the housemates found themselves eating cereal.

Turns out, it was Dale’s turn to make breakfast.

Turns out, Dale was huddled in his closet with a blanket wrapped over him as he rocked back and forth staring off with beady eyes whispering the same name, “Andrea”.

Turns out, the governor was feeling a bit vulnerable last night, and decided to pretend Dale was his wife, who had been rather cold to him lately, perhaps because he was never home at night and she was finally catching wise.

None of this mattered to poor Dale, all that mattered to him was the pain and the horror that was the governor’s signature, it seemed.

* * *

_**Author's Note: Thank you all again for all your kudos/reviews/bookmarks, I appreciate them immensely. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!** _


	10. What Has Been Seen

_**Author's Note: My apologies for taking so long to update! Enjoy~** _

* * *

 

When Lori finally stirred from her uneasy sleep, she noticed that Rick had not come to bed. As she sat up, she breathed in the smell of coffee. And so, she slid her black silk robe over her shoulders and tied it off.

In the early hours of the morning after the ball, Rick had made his way home.

In his kitchen he sat, holding a mug of coffee he’d brewed himself. His shirt was untucked and his bowtie was slumped over his shoulders. He sat there at the counter, staring out the window as the morning sun rose in the sky. He drank his coffee slowly, thinking about the events of last night.

Lori walked into the room, and finding Rick there, let out a small sigh. “Good morning,” she said quietly as she looked at his disheveled appearance. “Where were you last night?” she asked as she peered over at the coffee in a pot by the stove.

She retrieved a mug from the cupboard and poured herself some of the dark fluid. “Out,” Rick responded as he watched her.

She took in a deep breath at his words. They were far beyond giving full answers as well as asking for them. She added some cream and stirred the coffee with a spoon. She walked to the counter where he was sitting and stood across from him.

They drank in an awkward silence, neither knowing quite how to interact with the other.

Rick looked back out the window, and saw the sun rising above the horizon. He breathed in, “I want a divorce.” Lori looked up from her mug, her eyes wide but her mouth silent.

* * *

 

**That Night at the Golden Blade…**

It wasn’t often Daryl went behind Merle’s back, mostly because it just wasn’t a good policy to screw with his older brother, but when he did, he tried to make what he did worth the risk of getting caught.

In this particular instance, he had a choice to make.

Merle, the poor unfortunate soul, had the misfortune of getting food poisoning. Every few minutes, he would sprint off to the bathroom, with something to spew into the toilet, one way or another.

Of course, given his all-important position as head of the brothel, he would not hear of leaving his post for an entire night. It was out of the question.

The problem was that most of the night, he spent in the bathroom.

Allowing Daryl one very special opportunity.

Daryl was between sessions, and, seeing as how his brother was out of commission for at least seven more minutes, he was downstairs checking clients in.

And so, when the governor walked in asking for Glenn, Daryl may or may not have flipped through the big leather book and checked Shane’s appointment schedules for the night.

And, look at that, he was free for the next half hour.

Daryl thought for a moment as the governor stood before him, staring at him intently.

“Change of plans,” Daryl said, “you’ll be seeing Shane. He’s at the top of the stairs, first door to the left.” The governor narrowed his eyes, and for a moment Daryl wondered if the man was going to call him out on it.

But the governor just nodded and moved towards the stairs.

When he disappeared into Shane’s room, Daryl let himself smirk a bit before he walked over to the living room couch, sat himself down and propped his leg up on the coffee table.

Not a moment later, Glenn made his way down the stairs, looking rather confused. When he spotted Daryl, he walked over. “Have you seen the governor?” he asked.

Daryl put his finger to his lips, and waited. Glenn stared at him like he was crazy, but then the bedposts began to scrape against the floor.

Glenn’s eyes went wide and he looked down at Daryl, “No,” he said, more like a question.

Daryl nodded and pushed himself out of his seat as he walked over to the bar and grabbed a couple beers. “Yep,” he said, handing Glenn a beer before he sat back down on the couch.

Glenn smiled widely at the ceiling as he listened to the sound of the bed scraping along the floor. He slowly sank into the armchair beside the couch, the satisfied grin still covering his face. “Thanks Daryl,” he said, sighing in contentment.

Daryl said nothing, but held out his beer bottle to Glenn, who took the cue and tapped his own bottle against it, the bottles chimed on contact but it was barely heard over the commotion coming from upstairs.

“You do know Merle is gonna have your ass for this, right?” Glenn asked.

Daryl propped his arm behind his head as he shuffled deeper into the couch’s cushions, “Nah, he’ll be pissed but it’s not like he can do anything about it.”

“What do you mean by that?” Glenn asked, taking a sip of his beer.

Daryl shrugged, “Besides the usual shit, there’s nothing he can really do to me. He can’t sick the governor on me like he did Dale’s old ass, he wants Rick to be my only regular guy.”

“You’re lucky you got _him_ and not some other freak,” Glenn mumbled as he drank in both his beer and the sound of pain filled grunts accompanying the bedpost scrapes.

Daryl didn’t argue with that, Shane had made the mistake of denouncing the housemates experiences with the governor, he wouldn’t do the same. Not that he feared the outcome, he just figured that he didn’t need them all failing at an attempt to exact some scheme again.

The two sat quietly, neither minded the lack of conversation, their profession rarely allowed for a calm moment, so they had to soak them in while they lasted.

Daryl looked to the clock that hung on the wall beside the bar. It was half past eleven and his customer was running late-

The front door swung open and Rick stepped through. He closed the door behind him but looked confused at the unusually empty desk in the foyer. “Over here,” Glenn called, raising his beer in the air.

Daryl pushed himself off of the couch as Rick turned toward the living room. “Wanna beer?” he asked, taking a sip from the bottle in his hand. Rick shook his head, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “Suit yourself.” Daryl said as he began walking upstairs toward his room.

Stepping inside, Daryl shut the door behind Rick as he walked to the chair on the other side of the room and hung his jacket over its back. Daryl drank up the last bit of his beer as Rick undid the first few buttons in his shirt, loosening his collar and tie to make himself more comfortable.

“Merle take the night off?” Rick asked, not especially curious, but searching for something to fill the silence. He still felt, maybe not so much nervous, but far from relaxed around Daryl, so anything that could get him talking was definitely something Rick would say.

“Nah,” Daryl said, “he’s just been busy,” Daryl’s voice held a bit of humor in it and Rick almost asked him why that was, but before he could, Daryl’s lips pressed lightly onto his and the other man’s hands tugged gently at the tie around his neck.

Just as always, Rick’s head began to feel lighter, and his body relaxed as Daryl deepened the kiss and managed to rid Rick of his tie. Daryl tugged Rick’s shirt as they kissed and led him back towards the bed.

Spinning them around, Daryl pushed Rick down onto the bed and kissed him as he undid the last button and pushed the shirt from his shoulders.

Rick was not as tense as he usually was, and for Daryl, that was good, because he was in the mood to switch things up.

Daryl broke the kiss and made his way down Rick’s neck, sucking at the other man’s skin as he went. Rick leaned his arms back, letting them support his weight as Daryl’s lips trailed down his neck, to his collarbone, and down his stomach while his hands slid up and down Rick’s thighs.

When his lips reached just above Rick’s belly button, Daryl leaned back as Rick pulled his shirt over Daryl’s head. As soon as Daryl’s shirt fell to the floor Rick seized Daryl’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply. As he did this, Daryl’s hands went to work loosening Rick’s belt and sliding it from his pants.

Daryl broke the kiss once more, and pushed Rick forcefully back against the bed as he pinned the other man’s wrists on either side of his head. Rick got the message and relaxed against the bed as Daryl released his hands and knelt between his legs.

Daryl unbuttoned and unzipped Rick’s pants before he hooked his fingers under the waistband and pulled at them. Rick raised his hips off the bed and Daryl slid them off rather easily. Rick’s boxers soon joined the pile of discarded clothing, leaving Rick completely bare.

Daryl reached out and grabbed Rick’s half-hard cock in his hand, just as he would his own, and stroked it slowly, applying just the right amount of pressure and going just slow enough to cause Rick to bite his lip and suck in a frustrated breath. He grew increasingly hard in Daryl’s hand as he worked.

Daryl licked his lips lightly, but hesitated; he wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed.

Time seemed to freeze, and Daryl felt rather unsteady as Dale’s disembodied head appeared to his left, his eyes bulging and his voice speaking in a slow, lingering whisper; “Grasp it firmly, and eaaassseee your mouth down onto it.”

Just below Dale’s face, Tyreese’s own head appeared, a wary look on his face, “Man, I hate dildos.”

Merle’s head faded in above Dale’s, a sour, unhappy look on his face. “Time is money, lil brother,” he mumbled as his teeth ground against each other, “and right now, you’re wasting both!”

When the fourth face began to fade in, Daryl expected someone like Shane or Glenn to annoy him with tips for blowjobs.

Instead, the face of Shane’s date, the woman with terrets, slowly but surely faded in. Her lip quivered and her jaw shook as she hovered. “FUCKING SUCK DICK!” she screamed at him.

As Daryl stared, he could make out a man with an eye patch coming through, fading in slowly just like all the others.

Daryl closed his eyes and sucked in a breath just before he took Rick into his mouth. There was no way he’d sit and wait for that prick to say something to him.

Daryl moved his head up and down experimentally before he added his hand to help him. It wasn’t long before Daryl found a rhythm, and a fast paced one at that.

Rick let out a moan and pushed himself back against the bed as his fists twisted in the sheets on either side of his head.

Down south, Daryl quickly realized two things.

One: Blowjobs were simple. Compared to women, this was a breeze.

Two: Simple was good. Simple was very good.

And judging by the sounds coming from Rick’s mouth, he agreed.

Daryl pulled back, but continued to stroke Rick’s member. Daryl smirked as he looked up and saw Rick’s jaw set in a mix of frustration and pleasure.

With his other hand Daryl reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out the two condoms he’d stashed in preparation. One he tossed on the bed, the other he ripped open with his teeth and unrolled the condom onto Rick’s cock as he sat up.

Rick kissed Daryl sloppily and Daryl pushed himself off of the floor. Rick’s hands stumbled around Daryl’s belt and managed to rip it from his jeans, the jeans soon found their way onto the floor, as did his boxers.

Daryl pulled away and reached for the condom on the bed as Rick grabbed his ass and pulled him against him, sucking and nipping at his skin as Daryl tore the wrapper open.

Daryl shoved Rick back against the bed and Rick fell back with a smile and a laugh. He sat back up and watched as Daryl rolled the condom onto himself.

“Do you just like pushing me or something?” Rick asked, pulling Daryl’s legs over his on the bed, pulling Daryl onto his lap.

Daryl looked down at Rick from his position just slightly above him. “Somethin’,” Daryl said as he leaned down and kissed Rick, slow and deep.

Rick grumbled into the kiss and next thing Daryl knew, he was being turned over onto his back with Rick leaning over him. Rick nips at Daryl’s jaw as Daryl grasps the back of Rick’s neck.

Leaning back, Rick lines himself up to Daryl’s entrance and they lock eyes as Rick eases inside. Daryl closes his eyes and pushes his head back against the bed, letting out a small growl as Rick pushes himself fully inside.

Daryl keep his eyes closed as Rick leans in closer. He begins moving slow and steady, Daryl growls the slightest bit each time. Daryl felt Rick’s lips on his neck, kissing him lightly as his pace began to quicken.

Slowly, Daryl began to relax and move with Rick, working himself over with one hand as he cupped the back of Rick’s neck with the other.

Rick grunted as his pace quickened, and Daryl matched his pace with his hand as they both neared their end.

Rick thrust twice, hard and deep, before he leaned down and smashed his lips against Daryl’s, letting out a low moan into the other man’s mouth. Daryl continued to furiously stroke himself, he was so close-

Rick pushed Daryl’s hand away and took over as Daryl relaxed against the bed with Rick’s lips at his neck.

In a matter of moments, Daryl followed Rick over the edge.

Afterwards, the two laid there silently for some time, gasping for air and trying to steady their heart beats. Neither man was one to talk about their feelings much, and when they did, they tended to be poor at it, so neither tried to, assuming they’d just mess whatever _this_ was, up.

Instead, they talked about pointless things, “How have you been?” Rick asked, his voice low and rough.

“Same as usual really,” Daryl responded, giving Rick a quick kiss.

Daryl wished he could just lie there with Rick all night, but he had other customers coming tonight, so he begrudgingly pulled himself away from Rick and sat on the edge of the bed as he plucked his pants from the floor, hoping Rick would follow his lead so he wouldn’t have to be too direct about it.

Luckily, Rick slid to the edge of the bed once Daryl had pulled his pants up and did the same. “How about you?” Daryl asked, “How are things with Lori?” Rick had told him how unhappy he was with the woman, but had never given any indication he was willing to officially call it quits with her.

Daryl found that rather strange at first, but after finding out that he was mayor, Daryl figured it was just some political move, though Rick really didn’t seem like much of a show man.

Rick smiled and gave a short, humorless chuckle as he stood and pulled on his boxers and pants. “I, uh, I asked her for a divorce, actually.” Rick stared at Daryl, as if waiting for a reaction.

Daryl didn’t quite know what to say, “Sorry to hear that,” was what he decided on, even though it was a flat out lie.

Rick nodded a bit, looked down at the floor for a moment and shrugged before he looked back up. “It’s been a long time coming, I guess.” He said. There was a short silence before Rick added, “Honestly, though, I don’t-” he cut himself off and started again, “I feel…relieved about it.” He smiled at the strangeness of it, “I feel like it’s just….supposed to happen.”

Daryl nodded, he knew the feeling. Rick continued getting dressed as Daryl thought.

Just as Rick was finished collecting his clothes from the floor, Daryl spoke, “Merle’s having this Halloween party in a couple nights, he has one every year, they always suck.”

Rick laughed, “So are you asking me to come to it and suffer with you?”

Daryl shrugged and smiled at the floor, “To be fair, your party sucked too.” He replied. They both chuckled for a few moments before Daryl spoke again, “But, yes, I’m asking you to come. Maybe it’ll suck,” he stepped forward as Rick put his jacket on, “but maybe you’ll make it better.” Daryl finished as he kissed Rick deeply.

Daryl pulled back and Rick smiled as he looked up at the ceiling, contemplating whether or not he should attend said sucky Halloween party. He looked back to Daryl and sighed, still smiling, “So when is this party exactly?” Daryl smiled and pulled him in for another kiss.

* * *

 

The next morning, the housemates were on edge.

Glenn had informed Dale and Tyreese at some point during the night of Daryl’s little coup and were waiting patiently to see what impact the governor had left on Shane. Daryl joined them in kitchen, mostly just for the breakfast that Tyreese had made; sausage and hashbrowns.

Oddly enough, Merle had joined them for breakfast too. Only, he wasn’t eating anything, his stomach still hadn’t felt right after its disagreement with that discount sushi. So, there Merle sat, slumped over on the kitchen table, barely conscious and quite possibly drunk, judging by his happy demeanor.

The only housemate that was missing was Shane himself.

The others took this as a sign of how messed up he was, they joked that he was probably crying to himself underneath his bed. Just as they were laughing themselves into a fit, Shane stepped into the kitchen, looking rather worn out.

The housemates watched him with suppressed smiles as he entered, “Sausage?” he asked as he rubbed his face and yawned.

“Yup,” Tyreese responded, “you, uh, you sure you want some?”

Shane strode over to the stove and breathed in the meaty smell, “Why wouldn’t I?” he asked.

Tyreese’s face became confused, “Looking at them doesn’t make you sick? They don’t remind you of a certain unpleasant experience from last night?” Shane reached into the pan and picked one up, chewing it as he laughed.

“Wait are you talking about the governor?” he asked as he continued chuckling with a full mouth. “I don’t know what your problems are, guys, that shit was child’s play.” Shane rethought that last sentence, “Wait, no-”

Dale ignored his slip of the tongue, “You’re telling us you were okay with that shit!?” the old man yelled, causing Merle to throw up the middle finger, warning Dale to quiet down.

“Yeah,” he said plainly.

Merle began drunkenly laughing into the cool surface of the table before he began to speak, “Always said you was my best whore.” he laughed, holding out his fist for Shane to tap.

Shane crossed the room with a smile and did so, taking a seat next to a giggling Merle. Glenn, who looked like he was going to vomit, rushed out of the kitchen, and released the small bit of breakfast he had managed to eat into the downstairs bathroom toilet.

Daryl laughed a bit to himself as he finished up and left the kitchen to go upstairs and collect his crossbow for a day of target practice.

Tyreese had suddenly lost his appetite, so he turned off the stove and left the room to go rethink pretty much every detail of his life, preferably in a dark, solitary corner where no one could ever find him.

Merle remained in the kitchen, but that was only because he had apparently passed out on the table in a puddle of his own drool.

That left Shane virtually alone, snickering to himself as he bit off a chunk of sausage and chewed violently for a few minutes before those snickers became sobs and tears began spilling from his eyes, which could never un-see what had been seen last night.

* * *

_**Author's Note: So, I know it's a little late to be writing a Halloween party in, but I love Halloween specials so we're totally doing it. I hope you enjoyed! Next chapter should be full of laughs!** _


	11. Bad Halloween pt1

_**Author's Note: I decided to split this chapter up into two parts, so the next one should be up soon! Enjoy~** _

* * *

 

There were few things in life that gave Merle Dixon pure joy. One was money, two was whiskey, and the third was playing tricks on those around him.

That was partly why Merle loved Halloween so much. The other part was watching children scream in terror and seeing women scantily clad in kinky outfits. He also loved Halloween because of the annual Halloween party he would throw.

Now, the Golden Blade wasn’t the only brothel in town, it was just the only all-male brothel. There were two other, all-female brothels in town as well.

Yes, it was a very, very horny town.

Every year, the brothels would converge on the Golden Blade and team up, offering their customers a chance a selection between girls, boys, or both; something that wouldn’t be available any other day of the year. Customers paid an unusually hefty entrance fee, and from there it was up to them to get laid, if they didn’t, well, there was always next year.

Merle found this part funny, he called it the ‘trick or treat’ part of the night.

There was always hired extra help in preparation for the Halloween party, Merle claimed that one of the housemates would “fuck somethin’ the fuck up,” and he was probably right.

So, Bob, the chef that just moved to town, was hired to do his thing and make sure the food was perfect, Merle had his competition to impress, after all.

Herschel, being the best party decorator in town, was always hired to turn the elegant brothel into a gruesome, scary mess. And, year after year, he came through. One year he made the place into a vampire lair, one year he did a witches coven, and another he transformed the place into a haunted house. Herschel never did reveal what he was planning on until it was already finished.

In the meantime, Merle had tricks to plan.

For Halloween, he had decided to be a drug dealer. So, he’d put on a wife-beater shirt, saggy jeans, with a fake gun tucked in the back of his jeans. In preparation for one of his later tricks, Merle screwed on the fake hand he had but never wore, placing the blade in his desk.

The housemates also readied themselves for tonight’s activities.

Glenn had decided to go as a pizza delivery boy, Daryl was dressed as a biker, clad in his leather vest with angel wings on the back and a chain hanging from his jeans, Shane for some reason had decided to become a sexy priest, which left everyone dumbfounded, Dale was a tourist, clad in a Hawaiian shirt, cargo capris, binoculars, and a bucket hat, and, naturally, Tyreese was a big, cuddly, teddy bear.

Before the other brothels arrived, Merle set up his treat bowl outside on the porch of the brothel.

See, every year on Halloween, no child ever trick or treated at the Golden Blade. For some odd reason, this upset Merle. He found it somewhat offensive that children were not allowed anywhere near the whorehouse. But, this time around, Merle had a plan.

He would set the treat bowl on the porch, luring the children to the bowl and taking the treats.

Of course, Merle could never actually give out treats, so he decided to give out condoms instead. And the sign on the bowl would read, “Horny lil’ bitchez” in true classy Merle fashion.

It was his middle finger to the system.

* * *

 

Just as Herschel was finishing up, Merle stepped into the foyer and looked around. “Looks like a rodeo,” Merle mumbled, kicking a randomly placed hay bale.

Herschel frowned, “What? No!” he said, walking over to a fake zombie sitting on the couch in the lounge, “It’s a barn,” he said, looking to the ceiling with wide, imaginative eyes, “full of walkers!” he finished, motioning towards the blood covered dummy.

Merle stood silently for a long minute, just looking between Herschel and the zombie and wondering if the old man had finally lost it. “…….The fuck is a walker?” he asked with an edge to his voice.

Herschel looked at him through narrowed eyes, “A walking dead person.” He said, as if it were basic knowledge.

“A zombie.” Merle corrected.

“No, a _walker_.” Herschel insisted.

Merle stared at the old man for another couple of seconds. “You know what a zombie is, don’t ya?”

“Yes,” Herschel said in a tired voice, “but in _this_ world,” he said as he motioned around the dark, barn themed room, “they’re called walkers.”

“Yep,” Merle nodded, “I think it’s time for you to go-”

“You go outside, you risk your life!” the old man said loudly. “You take a sip of water, you risk your life! You take a nap, you risk your life! You have sex in a brothel, you risk your life!” Merle slowly began backing away as Herschel grew more and more passionate, “you….you…you,” Herschel looked around for another thing to say.

Just then, Bob walked in, holding a tray of buffalo wings, “Who wants to try my ‘Tingy Dingy Hot Damn Wingys’!?” he asked cheerfully.

Herschel quickly pointed at the tray, “You eat a dingy damn wingy, you risk your life!” the old man cried.

Bob’s smile melted, and he looked down at the tray, “Oh, no, I cooked ‘em through and through.” He said, a sad edge to his voice.

“Yeeaahhhh,” Merle said as he walked over to his desk, where a ‘walker’ sat in his seat. Pulling the drawer open, he grabbed a bundle of money and handed it to Herschel as he showed him the way to the door, and promptly escorted him through it.

Stepping back into the lounge, Merle plucked a buffalo wing from the tray and took a bite. He sounded his approval by way of muffled moans. “Make more of these, a lot more.” Merle said as he walked away. Bob’s smile quickly returned.

Walking to the staircase, Merle swallowed the last of the meat from the wing and bit at the bone before he called, “Get down here ya morons!” he called up.

Slowly, the housemates began to file down the stairs.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Merle asked when all of the housemates had made it down and were now standing in a line before him. “A priest, a pizza boy, a tourist, and a teddy bear?” he asked, looking at Shane, Glenn, Dale, and Tyreese. Merle gave a nod to Daryl, as if to say his costume was adequate.

“Hey, c’mon man, your costume sucks too.” Shane said, pointing at Merle.

Glenn stepped forward and pointed at the gun tucked in Merle’s belt, “Yeah, seriously, a fake gun?”

“Oh! You know who you should’ve been!?” Tyreese calls out. Everyone turns to look at him, “Oh, wait, wait, what’s that guy’s name from that movie?” the stares become blank, “You know, that ‘Guardians of the Milky Way’ or something like that.”

“’Guardians of the _Galaxy_ ’?” Glenn says, his tone a bit acidic.

“Yeah, yeah! He should’ve been that blue guy, right!?” Tyreese motions toward Merle, who had begun biting the inside of his cheek to keep from growling.

“You mean Yondu?” Glenn asks, his face lighting up as he turns back to look at Merle as he nods his head enthusiastically, “Yeah! You-” Glenn is cut off by Merle’s death stare. “No.” Glenn says, stepping back and hiding between Shane and Tyreese.

Just as Merle opens his mouth to begin cussing at the housemates, a knock comes at the front door, and he is forced to turn away from them.

Opening the door, Merle greeted the first brothel owner, Carol. “Carol,” Merle said, not flatly, but not friendly, either.

“Merle,” She mimicked his tone. She and her girls all entered the foyer, and spread out quickly, finding places to be before the customers arrive. As soon as they got settled, a couple caterers stepped out of the kitchen and made their rounds with trays of finger food.

Most of the housemates fanned out and mingled with the women. Though the owners of the brothels were very competitive towards each other, the prostitutes couldn’t care less, and usually spent the duration of the Halloween party swapping war stories with each other and seeing who had it worst of them all. They were close, as close as people can be who rarely see each other.

Tyreese came to stand by Merle’s side as he scarfed down a few more buffalo wings. “Where’s Karen?” Tyreese asked.

Karen had been one of Carol’s girls for a number of years, she had grown to be a very close friend to Tyreese, only now he couldn’t seem to find her amidst the group of girls. “Heard she got an STD.” Merle said flatly as he picked up another buffalo wing.

“And?” Tyreese asked, turning his attention fully on Merle.

“And,” Merle held up his buffalo wing and grabbed the toothpick he’d been using to pick the pieces of meat out of his teeth, holding the chicken wing out in front of Tyreese, he promptly stabbed the wing rather violently. Holding the wing by the toothpick deeply impaled within it, Merle reached into his pocket and grabbed his lighter. Holding the lighter to the chicken, Merle set the wing ablaze with a theatric “Woosh!”

Tyreese’s eyes went wide and he looked like he was going to be sick. He quickly scampered off. Daryl appeared at Merle’s side, “You gonna tell him she’s just in the bathroom?” he asked.

Merle shrugged and wheezed out a laugh as he watched Tyreese scamper off toward the bathroom. “He’s headed there now.” he said, “He’ll figure it out.” Merle turned and put his burning chicken straight into Daryl’s glass of fruit punch.

“Man, what the fuck?” Daryl grumbled.

“Shhh,” Merle hushed him, “See those two over in the corner?” he asked pointing discreetly towards two of Carol’s girls laughing in the corner of the room.

“Yeah, what about ‘em?” Daryl asked, still frowning down at his soiled drink.

“Those are her best players,” Merle said, narrowing his eyes, “Tara, lesbian extraordinaire, and the exotic beauty booty next to her is Sasha.”

Daryl tried not to laugh at Merle’s last few words, though it took some serious willpower. “Those two have been drawin’ ‘em into Sophia’s Den.” Sophia’s Den was the name of Carol’s brothel, though no one was quite sure why she had decided to name it that.

A knock at the door snapped Merle out of his trance scoping out the competition. He walked over and swung the door open, revealing the owner of the second brothel, Michonne.

Neither one of the said any pleasantries, they hated each other. Merle just stood aside and let her and her girls enter.

Returning back to his spot beside Daryl, Merle grumbled once more. “You see the two who just came in sitting on the hay bale?” he asked, pointing towards to girls dressed as cowgirls sitting together and looking very at ease.

“The blonde one’s name is Beth, and the brunette is Maggie; they’re sisters. You know how much people pay for a couple of sisters?! Fuckin’ ridiculous.” He whined, “And the senorita over there,” he motioned toward a girl dressed as a tango dancer, “name’s Rosita, yeah, she’s a feisty lil bonita.” He grumbled.

“We need somethin’ exotic.” Merle decided suddenly.

Daryl shrugged, “We got Tyreese and Glenn.”

Merle shook his head and narrowed his eyes, “No, not a blackie or the Chinese yella.”

“Korean,” Daryl corrected as he grabbed another drink from a passing tray and placed his ruined drink onto it.

“Hush up, boy.” Merle said. “I need me a Mexican.”

Daryl took a sip of his drink, “That’s another paycheck.” He said. Merle’s eyes went wide, and then slowly went back to normal.

“You’re right, we don’t need no Mexican.” He said. A knock came from the front door, and Merle made a move to answer it, but it swung open just seconds after the knock.

In stepped T-Dog, clad in nothing but a speedo and a pair of swimming goggles. Around his neck hung about a dozen fake gold medals. “Oh God,” Merle whispered as his palm came up to cover his face.

While the Golden Blade was the only official male brothel in town, there were always freelancers. T-Dog operated on his own. He was a one-man-show; a very bad one-man-show that made people embarrassed just watching it but they applauded out of sheer pity.

“How the hell did he even know about-”

“Woo!” T-Dog yelled out, “Man, am I ready for a party,” he said, “Michael Phelps in the house!” he called, closing the door behind him and sliding towards Beth. “Are you a gold medal?” he asked, “Cuz I can see you around my neck, if ya know what I mean,” he finished, flicking his tongue a couple of times and slurping the air.

Beth and Maggie quickly jumped up and walked to the other side of the room. “T-Dog,” Michonne came to stand near him, “no one here is a client. They haven’t arrived yet.”

T-Dog nodded his head with his hands on his waist. “Oh,” he said calmly with a smile on his face, “Are those buffalo wings?” he asked, making a beeline for the food tray a caterer was holding beside Merle.

Everyone resumed their previous conversations as Merle glared at T-Dog stealing chicken from the tray he had deemed his own. “T-Dog,” he said in a mere growl, the other man looked up from the tray as he chewed, “you are not Michael Phelps.”

T-Dog looked offended, and pointed to his speedo, “Yeah I am, how do you explain these gold medals?” he then motioned to the chucks of tin foil spray painted gold around his neck.

“You are _nothing_ like Michael Phelps,” Merle said in a threatening tone, “you’re fat, you’re black, and you’re ugly as fuck!”

“Well, you took the drug dealer getup man, what was I supposed to do?!” T-Dog fired back. Daryl started laughing and walked away to join the bunch of prostitutes mingling in the lounge.

Soon the guests would arrive, and this party would really get started.

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_**Author's Note: Alright, so that's the chapter! Hope you enjoyed and found it amusing! This chapter had a lot of references from the earlier seasons but next chapter will have a couple ones from the 5th season, though I will make sure not to give away any spoilers the next chapter would be better enjoyed if you're up to date!** _

_**Thanks for all the kudos and lovely comments! They're much appreciated!** _

_**Please follow me on tumblr at sweetdeceitfanfic ! ^_^** _


	12. Bad Halloween pt2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merle has terrible taste in tricks, Daryl finds his own personal hell, and a masked figure lurks in a corner!

_**Author's Note: Sorry I didn't update sooner everyone! Here's the next chapter! No direct spoilers in this chapter but if you haven't seen the current season one or two jokes may be lost on you! I hope you all enjoy!!** _

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Daryl sat on one of the hay bales spread throughout the room, downing the whiskey he’d swapped his fruit punch for. Just across from him, Glenn and Maggie sat swapping stories of their worst customers.

Maggie kicked things off by recounting her tales of a fat, older ‘gentlemen’ named Otis, who enjoyed being ridden like a horse, saddle and all, while being fed oats and jerking himself off.

Glenn quickly squashed that with his own stories of the governor. Though his stories quickly killed the light hearted, joking mood.

As Daryl listened, Beth, the younger of the sisters, sat down beside him. At first, Daryl ignored her. After a while though, that became nearly impossible. The girl’s massive blue eyes followed every slight movement he made, and he was quickly growing tired of the constant surveillance.

Turning towards her, Daryl made direct eye contact, but said nothing. The girl grew nervous, looking down, away, anywhere but at the man she’d staring at so intently before.

Within the minute, the girl cracked, “H-Hi.” She managed to squeak out. Daryl narrowed his eyes.

“Hi.” He responded flatly. Surely this girl hadn’t been staring at him for the sole purpose of saying hi.

“My name’s Beth.” She said, trying to regain his attention once he had turned away from her.

Daryl turned and looked toward the door, praying that Rick would get here soon. “Daryl.” He said when her gaze remained fixated on him.

When Daryl raised his glass to his lips to take another sip, he saw Beth’s eyes follow the whisky to his mouth. Watching as he drew the drink away, he realized that _he_ wasn’t what she had been staring at.

Daryl thought for a long moment, but decided that the girl would just stare him all night if he didn’t offer. “Wanna drink?” he asked.

The girl’s already large eyes grew even wider and a light seemed to shine in them. She glanced down at the cup with a strange longing in them. Daryl held the glass out to her, he was growing very impatient for Rick to arrive. “Go on, take it.” He told her.

“I-I’ve never had a drink before.” She said as she gently took the glass from his hand.

“Yeah,” Daryl said, turning back to Glenn and Maggie, “whatever.”

At that moment, there was a heavy knock at the door. Merle answered it quickly and Daryl watched the door open as a few of tonight’s guests were invited in. None of them being Rick Grimes.

When Daryl looked back to Beth, she had downed the glass of whiskey and was busy trying not to cough up her lung as the burn settled in. “You alright?” Daryl asked, not terribly concerned but tired of listening to her coughing in his ear.

She nodded her head as the coughs finally died down. She smiled widely, her blear blue orbs shining up at him cheerily, “Can I have another one of these?” she asked.

Daryl narrowed his eyes at her, after all that, she wanted another one?

“The bar’s over there,” he pointed in the bar’s direction and watched as the girl scampered off in search of another drink.

Daryl sat and waited restlessly for Rick to arrive, in the meantime he tried to listen to Glenn retell the events of the night they had all escorted their insane dates to the party and attempted to keep them from effectively ruining life entirely.

Daryl found it somewhat amusing to hear it from Glenn’s perspective, but the story could only hold his attention for so long before his gaze waivered back to the door.

The customers slowly filtered in, and the housemates and their new associates began to get to work. Shane and Michonne had settled into the corner of the room with one customer who was dressed as the phantom of the opera. The man drank his punch as the two of them made the occasional brush against him with their hands, their touches lingering just long enough to entice the man into relaxing further.

Daryl always found the Halloween party rather annoying, mostly because he was definitely not into seeing his housemates- Dale, in particular- naked and getting it on and having not one care about the matter.

Daryl looked over to the bar to see what the blonde he’d spoken to earlier was up to. He saw her hunched over the table top of the bar, pouring herself a drink out of a nearly empty bottle and giggling to herself.

Upon deciding he shouldn’t let the girl drink herself to death, Daryl stood, walked over to the bar, and took his seat beside her. She looked up and smiled dumbly at him. How she had the time to get this hammered was beyond him. She must’ve just sat right down and taken shot after shot.

“H-Hey there,” she hiccupped, “do you want a drink?” she slung her glass towards him. He took it from her palm and then poured the fluid back into the bottle. The girl made and whiney noise and covered her face in her hands.

Suddenly, the girl perked up, “Wanna hear a song?” she said, her wide eyes somewhat dimmed by the alcohol but still bright nonetheless.

“No.” Daryl said, feeling a headache come on as he heard Dale’s tell, that terribly awkward dry moan, come from across the room.

The girl cleared her throat and began to scramble on top of the bar Daryl tried to grab her and pull her down, but he saw only bad outcomes from grabbing and pulling a drunken girl with so many bottles and hard surfaces below her.

And so, the girl climbed atop the bar and began to sing, her voice out of pitch and the tune going horribly wrong as unintelligible words began to stream from her mouth. Behind them, Dale’s moans began to seemingly hum along in some horrible twisted song that made Daryl briefly contemplate going upstairs, grabbing his crossbow, and ordering everyone to get the fuck out.

Especially Dale.

Daryl looked around the room, wondering if he was the only one bothered by Beth and Dale’s God awful musical collaboration. Upon surveying the room, he found that surprisingly no one cared. Not one person had looked up from whatever or whomever was busying them.

In the corner, he found one man sitting on a hay bale, with his arms crossed, looking rather angry. Daryl’s eyes did not linger on him though, as something about the man was very much unnerving. He wore a basic scream mask, and a black cloak. No wonder no one had gone near the man.

Turning back to the moaning chorus Beth and Dale had going, Daryl decided it was probably best to just head up to his room to wait for Rick to show up. He’d know where to find him anyway.

While Daryl moped at the bar, his brother was on the prowl.

Ducking from closet to closet, Merle made his way to the kitchen. And then ducked inside of the pantry to wait for his victim to leave.

Since Bob had been around Merle had made sure not to be without his fake hand, one that was indeed very realistic and convincing. In never having met Merle before, there was no reason for Bob to think there anything different about Merle.

Which have Merle the perfect prank idea.

He watched Bob from his spot in the pantry, making a mental note that Bob primarily stayed on one side of the kitchen, never wandering on the other side of the breakfast bar. Which gave Merle ample opportunity for his plan to unravel.

Merle unscrewed his false hand and left it in a bunch of potatoes. He grabbed a bottle of ketchup and made his escape.

Bob was so caught up in cooking mini hamburgers and singing a jolly tune with a wide smile on his face that he didn’t even notice when Merle snuck behind the other side of the breakfast bar and began squirting ketchup all over the nub of his arm, spreading it around as he ducked behind the counter.

Another moment later and Bob had left through the kitchen door, smiling widely as he brought a tray of hamburgers out to the guests.

Standing up, Merle saw the bowl that Bob had used to mash up the hamburger meat and throw in the seasonings before he flattened them into patties and cooking them. To the side of the bowl was the beat grinder Bob had used to grind the meat down enough so it could be molded into such patties.

Merle smiled wickedly as he smeared some of the ketchup on the rim of bowl. In the mouth of the grinder, he poured a heap of ketchup and turned the grinder so as to work the ketchup further into it, to the point where the ketchup was dripping from the grinder.

Merle then laid down on the floor, squirting ketchup all around his hand, smearing the ‘blood’ on the floor, trying to make it seem as realistic as possible.

He laid in wait for a few anxious moments.

When Bob stepped back into the kitchen, Merle let out a moan.

Perceptive individuals would have recognized that it was nearly impossible for a man to sneak into the kitchen, grind his hand into oblivion, and then pass out from blood loss without _someone_ hearing a cry of pain or some sign that he had been there until this moment.

Perceptive individuals would have noticed that the ‘blood’ that coated Merle’s hand, the floor, the meat grinder and the bowl was far too thick and bright to be real blood.

Bob, however, was unfortunately not a perceptive individual.

So when Merle looked up at him and raised his good hand out, Bob stood there in complete horror. “Don’t…” Merle whispered, “eat the...burgers,” he said before dramatically falling ‘unconscious’.

Bob was shaking in his boots staring at the bright red that covered the kitchen floor. Panic filled him, and Bob did the only thing that unperceptive, and perhaps slightly unintelligent people do when they come across something such as this.

They panic.

He dashed out of the kitchen and screamed “TAINTED MEAT!” at the top of his lungs. Everyone in the place stopped their rather unsavory acts and turned to stare at the crazed loon dashing around the room and collecting the hamburgers from those who had collected them.

“TAINTED MEAT!” he screamed again, slapping one man who had refused to hand his burger over. When the man tried to slap Bob back, Bob punched him in the gut in an attempt to get the man to choke up the bite he had just taken.

Daryl was thankful for the loon, as he managed to get both the drunken blonde and severely disturbed old man to stop their strange moaning song.

But while Daryl was enjoying the show of course his brother was not.

This was supposed to be a prank, a mostly harmless little prank. Now, that crazed asshole was out there scaring his paying customers half to death. Merle pushed himself off the floor and ran out into the room where Bob was wreaking havoc on some poor man’s abdomen.

Merle grabbed Bob, covered his mouth with his ketchup covered nub and dragged him back into the kitchen, laughing nervously as he did so, “Meat’s fine, y’all enjoy yer evening.”

Bob thrashed about and screamed into Merle’s arm upon seeing the bloody nub at his mouth.

Merle tossed the man into the kitchen, “Oh shut up!” he yelled. Bob looked at him with wide, fearful eyes as Merle wiped the blood from his arm and showed his it was not an open wound.

Bob’s face twisted into confusion. Merle grunted and walked over to the pantry, grabbing his discarded fake hand and showing how it connected it to his arm. “Hmm?” he hummed angrily.

Bob still seemed rather confused, so Merle took him around the breakfast bar and showed him the discarded ketchup bottle only then did Bob finally catch on and start laughing hysterically.

Merle just stared at the man in front of him as he continued to laugh. Merle was normally the only one to find joy in his Halloween tricks, having someone else- his _victim_ , no less- find joy in them ruined it for him.

“Shut the fuck up and git back to work.” He mumbled as he made his way out of the kitchen. “Oh, and clean this shit up.” He said, pointing towards the pool of ketchup on the floor.

Neither of the Dixon brothers seemed to be enjoying themselves tonight.

Daryl had decided that while sitting and watching chefs scream about tainted meat was all well in good, there was still no sign of Rick Grimes.

So, with a tray of the ‘tainted’ hamburgers in hand, Daryl climbed the stairs to his room, where he shut the door and threw himself down on his bed, laying the burgers beside him and eating them one by one. He made sure as to not eat too many, lest Rick finally decide to make an appearance.

About ten minutes later, Daryl heard a knock at his door. He sat up, expecting to see Rick walk in, but was met with the tall, black robed man from the corner of the room. The man still had on the scream mask. “What chu want?” Daryl asked grumpily.

The robed figure closed the door behind him as he reached up and pulled the mask off.

And, of course, it was none other than the governor.

Because that was just Daryl’s luck.

Rick practically jogged through the streets. He was late. So, so, _so_ late.

He had been at the annual Halloween charity event for the town, and being the town’s mayor, it seemed only right that he should actually attend. So, he had gone, smiled and talked to a few key people, planning his escape while he faked smiles and shook hands.

But when the time came for him to actually _make_ his escape, there were difficulties. The people started chanting for a speech, one he was certainly not prepared to give, nor would he probably have ever been ready to give because it seemed so unimportant at the time.

All he really cared about was seeing Daryl, and there was certainly no Daryl amidst the ‘sexy kitten’ costumes and doctor getups.

Rick took a deep breath as he rounded the corner to the brothel and adjusted his sheriff costume and hat as he approached the front step.

Walking inside, he was immediately met by a hoarse and dry moan that was altogether just disgusting sounding. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the place and after looking through the writhing, partially nude bodies for a few minutes, he had decided that Daryl was not among them.

Rick climbed the stairs to Daryl’s room and took yet another deep breath before he opened the door.

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_**Author's Note: Alright so the whole Bob thing you wouldn't get until you watch the current season, so hopefully everyone has seen it! Thank you all for your support/feedback! Oh and thank you for (almost) 190 kudos!!! Means a lot! ^_^** _


	13. Claimed

_**Author's Note: You all remember the episode with the 'claimers', right? Well, this is the Rickyl take on it.** _

_**This was written in between my classes, so hopefully there aren't too many errors. I hope you all enjoy!** _

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When he was seventeen and he accidentally walked in on his best friend, Shane Walsh, having sex with his high school crush, Rick stood frozen in the doorway. When the girl noticed him and screamed, Rick still couldn’t move. When Shane yelled at him to get the hell out, he couldn’t move.

He simply stood there, pretended like the two of them were not in an extremely compromising position, and asked the girl, whose name was Julie, how she was doing since he had seen her last. It was only when Shane stood and forcibly pushed Rick out that Rick was actually able to move.

Another time, when Rick was attending a formal event, a woman, who would later become Daryl’s date to yet another charity event, came up behind him, whispered in his ear that his speech was fantastic, and then squeezed his ass.

He was so confused and shaken by the experience that he turned around, said an embarrassed, “Thank you,” and quickly escorted himself from her presence.

Yes, Rick Grimes was God awful at dealing with awkward situations, which he fortunately rarely found himself in.

But when he opened Daryl’s door and found himself looking at none other than his work associate, Phillip Blake, standing in the middle of the room with his pants pulled down, his dick hanging out, and Daryl in the corner of the room with his crossbow aimed directly at him, Rick found himself in another painfully awkward situation.

One that, for once in his life, he was able to resolve rather quickly.

Instead of feeling the heat of embarrassment at seeing his colleague’s genitals, he felt only anger that they were bare in front of _his_ lover.

And so, Rick grabbed Phillip by the hood of his costume, and promptly threw him from the room. He thought he heard the man topple over the bannister, but he really couldn’t have cared less.

Rick slammed the door behind the man, and turned to face Daryl with heavy, angry breaths.

Not that his anger was directed at Daryl, at least not yet. But it did have the potential to turn that way. “You’re late.” Daryl said simply, setting his crossbow down and relaxing his stance.

Rick nodded once, acknowledging it as the truth, “I caught tied up in something.”

“Yeah,” Daryl grumbled, “me too.” His voice also had an angered edge to it.

“Why was he in here, anyway?” Rick asked, needing some sort of explanation, even if he could guess the answer judging by the fact that Daryl had held a crossbow up to threaten the man away from him.

Daryl shrugged and plopped himself down on his bed, grabbing a tray of miniature hamburgers and holding it out, “He just showed up.” Daryl said flatly, “Hungry?” he asked.

Rick couldn’t bring himself to even think about eating, his jaw was clenched and his stomach felt like a rock. As he watched Daryl calmly shrug and take a bite of one of the mini hamburgers, something in Rick snapped.

He took the hamburger out of Daryl’s hand and tossed it onto the tray, which he then quickly placed on the nearby nightstand. Just as Daryl was about to protest, Rick’s mouth clamped around his own as the other man’s hands cupped his face, holding him in place as Rick deepened the kiss hungrily.

Daryl opened his mouth and let Rick take control. It was obvious that even if he fought for it, he would lose the fight. Something deeply primal was fueling Rick’s actions, something that was turning them both on.

Rick pushed Daryl’s leather vest off his shoulders roughly, and his cutoff flannel shirt soon followed. Not to be outdone, Daryl tore Rick’s shirt in half, sending the buttons to his Sheriff’s costume flying across all across the room.

Their pants soon fell into the growing pile of discarded clothes on the floor and it wasn’t long before Rick was on top of Daryl, thrusting into him at a punishing pace.

This wasn’t angry sex, this was jealous sex.

Sex that was meant to show the other person that they had been claimed.

Thiswas Daryl being _claimed_.

When it was done, they both laid on the bed gasping for air, their sweat coated bodies slowly cooling the longer they laid apart. They both knew something in their….’relationship’ had just changed, but neither knew how to address it.

But the worst part of it was that Rick felt that it was awkward.

He felt almost apologetic for the borderline brutal pace at which he had taken his lover, and that made him embarrassed and unsure about the long silence that ensued.

And we all know how Rick does in awkward situations.

“So,” he began, staring up at the ceiling, “how was the party?” Rick closed his eyes and visibly cringed at his own words.

Daryl looked over at him and let out a breathless laugh before he rolled on top of Rick, and planted a deep kiss on his lips.

But while the two of them may not have been able to address how their relationship had shifted, it most definitely had.

This prompted Rick to schedule a meeting with Merle one day, one a good distance away from the Golden Blade and Daryl.

So, like any Whorehouse owners and mayors, they met at the local bakery/ice cream shop. The smell of cupcakes hung in the air as the two of them took their seats in a booth in the corner.

Merle ravenously tore into his chocolate cupcake and moaned appreciatively. Rick watched and curled his lip a little at the unsettling sight. No grown man should enjoy a cupcake _that_ much.

“So,” Merle drawled, “what is it that was so important for you to drag my ass out here? Hmm?” Rick cleared his throat and set his vanilla cupcake aside.

“I want to invest in the Golden Blade.” He said simply, crossing his hands together in a businessman-like fashion.

Merle burst out laughing, causing some of his chocolate cupcake crumbs to spurt out onto Rick’s face. He cringed and grabbed a napkin as the redneck before him continued to laugh.

Rick wiped the chocolate from his face as Merle calmed himself. “Y-you want to…” he burst out in a fit of laughter once again, and it took several minutes for the man to regain his composure, which was still quite fragile. “Now, Mr. Mayor,” Merle said with a teasing voice, “how would it look if you were to put your money in a business such as mine?”

Rick looked to the side, an annoyed smile played at his lips, “I would be making this transaction discretely, of course.” He said, emphasizing the word discretely to an almost absurd degree.

Merle narrowed his eyes for a second, “Huh, well now, why would you want to do that?”

“I have my own reasons.” Rick stated clearly. “I would want to become a partner, and own half of the Golden Blade.” Merle’s jaw nearly fell on the floor. “Your finances would obviously benefit quite a bit from having a partner.”

Merle once again narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?” he asked suspiciously.

Rick set his jaw and looked the other man in the eye, “Daryl is no longer one of the…providers of your service. He doesn’t see customers.”

Merle let out a huff, “So that’s what this is about,” he muttered. He paused for a moment, mulling over the suggestion. “So what _would_ he be doing?”

“I will provide the funds, but Daryl will be your acting partner.” Rick said plainly, sitting back against the booth seat. “I’m not sure I want him to know I’m doing this though, so for now just keep it quiet.”

Merle thought for a long time before he asked, “And how much of the Blade’s costs would you be willing to undertake?”

“I want to be co-owner, so half the costs are mine.” Merle gritted his teeth for a moment. He didn’t like having people looking over his shoulder, telling him how to run his business. He didn’t like ‘partners’.

But he _did_ like money.

And having half the costs of the house lifted from his shoulders would certainly help him acquire more of his favorite green paper.

“And I suppose you’d be looking for a 50/50 cut?” Merle said, his mood dampening at the thought of having to dish out another paycheck at the end of every month.

Rick gave a small nod.

Merle thought hard as he devoured the rest of his cupcake. He thought about how some months, such as the month dealing with all the fire code regulation issues forcing him to close down for the better part of a week, and how in those months, he barely broke even.

But then there some months, such as October with his costume party night, where he made enough money to swim in.

But, he did like stability.

Merle was rough, and did like to run risks now and then, but the idea of having an extremely wealthy partner and knowing that he would have the mayor in his pocket did influence his decision.

“Alright,” Merle grumbled, “you’ve got yourself a deal.” He offered his chocolate covered hand out to Rick, and Rick took it, not seeing the chocolate in time. He sighed as he felt the gooey sensation between their hands.

But that hardly bothered him now.

He had officially laid his claim.

Daryl was as good as his.

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_**Author's Note: Alright so I wrote this and it was super awkward because I was sitting in the middle of a common area, and it was super weird writing it with all these people around me lol you can probably guess why. So....THANK YOU for all the kudos, comments, etc. And thank you for 4,000 hits!!! It means a lot! Thank you all!!!** _


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